Murder! He Cried
by indahome
Summary: He wasn't convinced. He would never be convinced, not in a million years.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The three horses strode in unison as the trio made their way down the empty streets of Virginia City. Nobody was outside at this time of day, or in this weather. It was scorching hot, and humidity making the day unbearable and the occupants of it snappish and short tempered. The three Cartwright brothers were no exception, and as they lazily made their way down the street each chose to happily ignore one another. Joe, and Hoss stopped at the Silver Dollar, but Adam continued to make his way down the street, his hat pulled low and shoulders stiff.

Hoss and Joe acknowledged his departure with nothing more than a shake of their heads. Pa had sent Adam into town on business anyway, and they had only come because Ben wanted them out of his hair, and for a nice cold beer.

Slowly Adam walked his horse down the street until he came to the low hanging sign projecting out into the street that read, **Official Offices**. Stepping down off of Sport and onto the boardwalk he lazily walked over to a side staircase slinging his saddlebags over one shoulder. He ran right into a man as he rounded the corner and was momentarily thrown off balance.

"Sorry, Adam," a polite young voice said apologetically as he steadied the Cartwright. "I guess I wasn't watching where I was going. My mind seems to be miles away at the moment."

Pushing his hat up with one finger, Adam glanced at the sorry smile of Andrew Fill. Carefully Adam offered a smile back.

"Never mind, Fill, I wasn't paying much attention myself."

With a final pat and nod of his head Andrew started away down the street. Leaning on the corner of the building Adam watched him go, then turned and bounded up the stairs, two at a time and entered the door at the top with a sign next to it reading,

_**Taylor Law & Cattle, Co.**_

No one really knew what the Co. stood for as Mr. Taylor wasn't a corporation, but Adam figured that he had done it to sound important, and in more ways than one was he correct.

His hat easily fell into his hands as he entered the stuffy office, and upon entering he sensed a tension in the air. Pushing past the low swinging door into the secretary's office he proceeded to the main office as the door was laying wide open.

"Follow that man! Don't let him out of your sight!" Adam heard Mr. Taylor bellow to his man Thorp as he stood placidly behind the desk.

"Yes, sir," Thorp quipped as he ran from the room nearly running into Adam.

"Sir, do you think that's wise?" Taylor's secretary asked.

"It's none of your business!" Taylor snapped and sat down picking up a piece of paper. "Get out of my sight!" Taylor waved him away and the secretary turned and started form the room.

His eyes fell on Adam, standing just inside the door, and his face paled. "Sir…" he began hesitantly.

"What do you want!" Taylor snapped his eyes shooting to his secretary.

It was then that Adam stepped fully into the room and he allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. "Mr. Taylor, my father sent me here to see you on some business, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"

The whole atmosphere of the room suddenly changed and with a stern look at his secretary, Mr. Taylor stood and extended his hand. "Not at all Mr. Cartwright! Please come in and take a seat, I'll be happy to help you with whatever your father is in need of."

The door gently shut as the secretary left and Adam settled into one of the two Vinyl Captains styled chairs that were stationed in front of the desk. Placing his hat in his lap, and dropping the saddle bags onto the floor, Adam pulled out the papers his father wanted looked over, and watched Taylor examine them.

Letting his eyes drift back to his hat, Adam toyed with it as the room fell quiet. His eyes then went to the line of windows, adorning the outside wall of the room, which had been thrown open in hopes to catch a breeze. The office was hotter than the street below and Adam wondered how Mr. Taylor, who was dressed in a suit, took the heat.

"There," the man said, smiling as he stood, startling Adam from his thought and causing him to swing his eyes back to Taylor. "Shall I file these for your father?"

"No," Adam stood his hand reaching for the papers. "They need to be signed."

"Very well," Taylor handed them back and sat down in his chair. His shrewd eyes watched Adam, replace the papers, as he lazily used a letter opener to pick at his nails. An old habit that had never died.

"Tell me, why's Ben changing his lumber contracts this late in the season?" Taylor asked casually, as Adam stood.

"In truth, Mr. Taylor, he's not. I am," Adam said, his eyes falling somewhat testily on the man before him.

"Oh I see." The letter opener was replaced on the desk and Mr. Taylor sat forward slightly. "And why would _you_ be changing your lumber contracts this late in the season?"

"Because I find that the old contracts no longer apply to the demands that were signed upon in the agreement, thus I have chosen to alter the contracts with the approval of the buyer. Is that satisfactory?" Adam asked, as he cooked his hat back on his head and picked up his saddlebags.

"Yes," Taylor smiled. "That is very satisfactory."

"Good." Coolly Adam wheeled and left the office heading back down the stairs and mounted Sport.

Benjamin Taylor walked to the window and parted the lacy certain watching Adam ride back down the street, a long frown on his face. Taylor was a medium built man well into his forties with thick blond hair that he kept carefully oiled and combed back. He was married, only had a son that lived in California, who Taylor had never cared much for and had hoped to never see again.

Walking back to his desk he passed his wall of books that sat directly behind the desk adding importance to the drab office. Picking up the letter opener again he sat for a few moments contemplating the conversation and angrily he slammed the letter opener back on the desk.

He couldn't say why, but something about the Cartwrights irritated him, Adam most of all. Why it was him, Taylor could not say, but he had a great dislike for the eldest Cartwright. Shaking his head, he grabbed up the papers on his desk and went back to reading them with a contemptuous frown.

Andrew Fill slowly pushed the doors open to the Silver Dollar and moseyed on up to the bar.

"Whisky," he muttered to the bartender and flipped a coin onto the counter. Downing the contents of the glass set before him he pushed it back on to the bar and flipped another coin. The bartender began to fill his glass again, but Andrew reached out and grasped it with a mumbled, "I'll keep the bottle."

Quickly he filled his glass again and shot it off again and was filling another when a familiar voice called his name.

"Andrew! Andrew Fill! How you been?"

Slowly Andrew turned and smiled at Little Joe. "Fine, you?"

"Why I've been great!" Little Joe was half standing as he waved Andrew over to the table he was sharing with Hoss. Taking up his bottle Andrew walked over smiling at Joe.

"Hoss, you remember Andrew?" Joe looked at his brother, whose face lit into a big smile.

"I sure do," he offered his hand to Andrew and the two shook heartily before Fill sat down.

"What have you been up to lately? We haven't seen much of you around," Joe asked.

"Oh, nothing much. Been busy I guess. You? How are things at the Ponderosa?"

"Fine. How's your grandfather?"

Andrew shifted in his chair and his face fell. "That old man," he spat. "Never did care three straws about me. I can't wait to see the day that he kicks the bucket!" he downed his drink and reached for the bottle filling his cup again.

Casting a glance at Hoss, Joe shifted uneasily. "What's the matter with the old man?"

Andrew sat up hurriedly and leaned in close. "I've lived with that man for ten years, worked his place, kept his accounts, and saw to it that he was close to the richest rancher in Virginia City. I've killed myself a hundred times over making that ranch, and I've given most of my life to do it. Now, I ask you, don't you think I should be getting _something_ in return for all my faithful years?"

Passing another glance at Hoss, Joe smiled. "I think you're entitled to _something_."

"Yeah? Well my grandfather don't. He's taken me out of the will and left me with nothing!"

"What?" Joe and Hoss said in unison.

"Now Andrew, I don't think your grandfather would ever do something like that…" Hoss began good-naturedly.

"Save it Hoss, he did and I know he did. Went and had a look at the will myself, today."

The brothers glanced at each other again and remained quiet for some moments as Andrew nursed his glass frowning about the room.

"What made him do that?" Joe finally asked, softly.

"On account of my ma. He never did like it when my father remarried and he liked it even less when she had a son, and he hated it when they both up and died on him leaving me in his care." Andrew's face had grown sour. "Well I tell you, I ain't going to let no grandfather of mine stop me from getting what's mine!" He filled his cup again and sat back glaring at the table.

"Andrew, surely that ain't the reason your grandfather done―" Hoss began.

"_Yes it is_!" Andrew yelled, but lowered his voice as the other occupants of the room turned their heads. "And do you know who he's giving the money too?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "My stepsister!"

"You mean Julia?" Joe crocked.

"Yup. He's left her with ever red cent he's got."

"That's not fair!" Joe cried his temper heating.

"Tell me about it. My grandfather always liked my father's first wife, and he blamed my ma for her death."

"I had no idea," Hoss mumbled, and Joe's face grew red with anger.

"Why that no good snake!"

Andrew nodded. "My mother didn't even know pa's first wife. But grandfather said it was on account of my pa liking ma better, that pa's first wife died of a broken heart. Did you ever hear anything more ridiculous? And that Julia! All she does is spends money and sends home the bills."

"I thought Julia got married?" Joe asked his face puzzled.

"She did," Andrew replied, giving Joe a sideways glance. "But apparently her budget is higher than her husband can afford, and since grandfather views her as a god, he pays all her bills."

"Oh," Joe sat back in the chair his eyes on the table. "But it still isn't right for him to not leave you with anything! Why Andrew, you practically own that ranch!"

"I know," Andrew snapped and finished off the whisky bottle. "And I intend to have it out with the old man, tonight!" He stood and marched back to the bar leaving the Cartwrights in hushed silence.

Slowly Joe turned back to his beer, his eyes flaring. "Well," he finally started. "I don't think it's right for Sir Edward to treat his grandson in such a way. Andrew built that ranch and I don't see why anyone wouldn't let him have what was rightfully his."

"Now Little Joe, don't go gettin' yourself all worked up. I'm sure after Andrew talks with his grandfather they'll get it all worked out. But c'mon, there's Adam."

The two Cartwright brothers rose and met Adam just as he was dismounting. "All finished?" he asked without looking up from the cinch his was tightening.

"Yup," Hoss replied.

"Let's go." Adam swung back up onto his mount and started down the street as Hoss and Joe hurried to catch up with him.

"See Andrew Fill?" Adam asked casually to Joe.

"Yeah, came in the saloon, had a drink with us."

Adam nodded. "Nice boy." He pulled his hat low and spurred Sport into a trot hurrying for home.

Noisily, Andrew mounted up the stairs and entered the door to his ranch house, an hour out of town. He had stayed at the Silver Dollar until way past dark, and he was now incredibly drunk. Stumbling into the house he laughed happily and sang ever so loudly. He pulled his hat from his head, and when his eyes fell on his grandfather he tossed it at the old man with gusto.

"Well pop," he slurred, taking a step or two forward. "What do you think of your stinking grandson?"

The old man stood in his dressing gown, his face set as stone with a deepening frown on it. He said nothing and made no move toward Andrew.

"Oh, I see, you're too good for me. Can't even hand out an insult cuz' you're afraid it'll dent that perfect public figure of yours." Andrew said, his temper growing. "Well, let me tell you something, you ain't half as good as me."

"Go to bed Andrew," Sir Edward said, softly.

"Bed, oh, now you're trying to send me to bed!" he looked about and smiled. "I think that's a right smart idea, I am rather tired." He started for the stairs got halfway up them and stopped with a giggle then came back down. "No I forgot, I was gonna inform you of that will you had me go inspect today. It don't meet with my approval and I don't like it. But I guess that's kinda what you wanted me to find, ain't it?"

"Andrew, I will not talk to you while you are in this fashion." The old man turned his back. "Go upstairs and get some sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning."

"No, we'll talk about it right now!" Andrew spat.

"Go to bed Andrew. I do not care to talk to you right now."

"I do!" he stormed across the room and gripped his grandfather's shoulder turning him to face himself, but as Andrew moved the old man, something made contacted with his head and he fell to the ground. Looking up again at his grandfather some moments later he observed a poker-stick in the old man's hand.

Edward knelt next to Andrew. "Now that you've had your say for the night, I want you to go upstairs and get to bed. We will review your conduct in the morning." The old man rose and started away, and for a few seconds Andrew sat dazed but with a sudden surge of anger he lunged to his feet and threw himself at the old man pulling them both to the floor.

Being as drunk as he was, Andrew was no match for the old man, and as he fell to the floor Edward quickly got out of his grasp and repeatedly struck Andrew in a sudden bust of violence that had weld up within him. Down came the poker as it struck the victim and scrambling went Andrew suddenly terrified of his grandfather. He placed his hands in front of his face and he got to his feet shouting words of apology as he tried to quell his suddenly viscous grandfather. Nothing would appease the old man however and he continued to strike at Andrew chasing him about the room.

In a final attempted to defend himself, Andrew ripped one of the two Radaelli Sabers off the wall and began to fence his grandfather about the room. The two were evenly matched as they moved furiously around. Andrew was drunk and not up to his normal par, which would have put him at a disadvantaged had it not been that his grandfather was fighting out of vengeance, causing him to lose all sense of the normal coolheaded man.

About the room they went, irons clashing and feet moving swiftly as Andrew tried to disarm his grandfather and Edward tried to get another whack at his grandson. Their fight continued for less than a minute before Andrew had his grandfather cornered and he plunged his Saber into the old man. Time stood still as the poker clattered to the floor and the old man's face lit with horror as he slid down the wall. Andrew's face grew pail as he watched. He fell to his knees scooping the old man's head in his arms, unsure what to do.

"Grandfather?" he stuttered, worry etched into every line of his face. "Grandfather? Are…Are you alright?"

"Get away from me, you scamp!" Edward whispered his head limp in his grandson's arms.

"I didn't mean…I mean I never meant too…" His voice trailed off as his eye filled with tears.

"I know full well what you intended…" he wheezed suddenly. "Get out of my sight!"

"But―"

"Git! Do you hear me! I don't want to see you anymore! Go away!" His grandfather cried aloud as he lamely pushed himself away from Andrew and fumbled for the poker again.

It occurred to Andrew that he was doing more harm than good, so scrambling to his feet he fled out of the house and to the barn, with shrieks from his grandfather following him the whole way. Andrew didn't stop to think until his was up in the hayloft buried in the hay. He then glanced down at his apparel and noticed that he was covered in blood, some of it his but most of it his grandfathers. The sight appalled him and he cried out. Hurrying form the hay he descended the latter and walked back to his horse, which was still saddled, and pulled a whisky bottle from his saddlebags. It was then he realized he still had the Saber in one hand, that was also coated in a fine layer of blood. Totally revolted at the sight was he, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes from it, nor could he bring himself to put it down as he sat in the barn and downed his sorrows in the bottle of whisky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The four Cartwright sat around the breakfast table as Joe carried on a whole conversation by himself, with only a few inputs from Ben and a couple of grunts from Hoss. Adam had said nothing throughout the whole meal as he was absorbed in his own thoughts. The sound of a horse entering the yard aroused Ben's attention, the knock at the door stopped Joe's chatter and Hoss from eating and the entrance of Roy Coffee pulled Adam from his thoughts.

"Howdy boys, Ben," Roy greeted.

They all responded with different hellos and Roy was quickly seated at the table eating breakfast and drinking a cup of coffee.

The room fell silent as the four Cartwrights politely watched Roy eat, waiting for him to state the purpose of his visit. Not that anyone cared that Roy had come, but that they were all slightly curious―each in his own way―as to why the sheriff had ridden so far out to see them.

"I arrested a man early this morning," Roy began slowly, as he ate his fried egg.

The Cartwrights exchanged glances and Ben cleared his throat. "Anyone we know?"

"Yeah, I reckon you might. He's close to the biggest competition you have."

"Edward Fill?" Ben asked surprised.

"Nope, the grandson," the sheriff said, as he wiped his plate with a piece of toast.

"Andrew? What for?" Joe spoke up, his interest suddenly perked.

"His grandfather was murdered, and currently Andrew's my prime suspect."

The room fell into a shocked silence.

"Edward was murdered?" Ben ventured after a moment.

"Yup," Roy replied finishing his coffee. "Stabbed to death."

"You really don't think it's Andrew, do you sheriff?" Adam asked after another pause.

"Yes, at the moment I do."

"That's crazy!" Joe snapped. "Andrew wouldn't kill his own grandfather!"

"But he was in town yesterday making threats about the old man. And when we found him he had a Saber in one hand covered in blood and a whisky bottle in the other. When we approached him he kept crying, "It was an accident," and then he went on and on about how he never meant to hurt anyone. I tell you Joe, like it or not, it looks as though Andrew killed his grandfather."

The room went silent again.

"When did it happen?" Hoss mumbled.

"Sometime around midnight. Mr. Taylor and I, found the body around two, and then went and found Andrew in the barn."

"Mr. Taylor?" Joe queried. "Mr. Taylor was with you?"

"Yes, he'd had his man Thorps follow Andrew all day, and Thorps saw Andrew kill his grandfather."

They sat a moment longer then Joe stood. "I want to see Andrew," he said softly.

"Actually that's the reason I came out here," Roy stood as well.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Seems as though Andrew and the old man were having a fight, and Andrew took several good whacks to the head. He was not in his right mind this morning and has seemed to come down with a fever. He keeps calling for you, and Dr. Martin thought it best if you came."

Joe nodded and ran upstairs, with a mumbled, "Be right back."

They all watched him go until he was gone from view and then the sheriff started for the door. Adam rose, a puzzled look on his face.

"Roy?" he called before the man could exit the house. "If the Sir Edward and his grandson where having a fight isn't it possible Andrew was acting out of self-defense?"

"Yes, it is possible, and I took that into consideration," Roy smiled. "Thorps claims that it was Andrew who started the fight and that Edward had been acting in self-defense."

Gravely Adam nodded his head and his hands dug into his pockets. Joe came plunging down the stairs moments later and quickly he strapped on his gun belt then turned back to Roy nodding that his was ready.

"Mind if I ride along?" Adam asked, halting the procession out the door.

"Suit yourself." Roy shrugged and Adam hurried to follow them grabbing up his hat and gun belt.

The sheriff's office had always been a place that Joe had never enjoyed spending much time in. He had been there lots of times on business, most times for a pleasure visit with Roy, and on very rare occasions he had been hauled in there and thrown in a cell. That was only a few times however, but more than Joe liked to count.

His gun belt he took off and left on Roy's desk as he stood facing the cell with Andrew in it playing with his hat. The door was slowly unlocked, and Roy pulled it open with a smile at Joe, allowing him to enter before locking it again and leaving the two in peace.

Andrew's eyes locked on Joe's, and pulling the stool up to the cot Joe sat.

"Hey Andrew!" he smiled softly. "How you feeling?"

"Rotten," Andrew mumbled softly. "My head's killing me. Dr. Martin said it's cuz' I have a concussion, and a hangover. I guess I really laid into the bottle yesterday." His hand that had been feeling his head dropped to Joe's arm and he gripped it. "Joe, I didn't do it, I swear I didn't. At least I don't think I did…" his voice trailed off and he cried in anguish. "He was still breathing when I left, I could have sworn he was fine. Hurt yes, but fine." His head moved back to Joe. "What am I going to do?"

"Now just hold on there," Joe's voice was firm and reassuring. "I'm going to try and get you out of this mess, but I got to know what happened."

Closing his eyes and looking back to the window Andrew thought a long moment before shaking his head. "It's no use," he whispered. "I can't remember what happened. I guess I was too drunk."

"Try Andrew! You've got to try!"

Swallowing hard Fill looked around the cell. "Well, I remember getting home, and seeing the old man waiting for me. We said some things…I can't remember what, but he sent me up to bed. I remember heading that way, but thought about the will and I went back down to confront him about it…" Andrew shifted his eyes and sighed. "And that's all I can seem to be able to remember."

"There was a fight, right? You had a fight with your grandfather. Roy said you were in the barn with a Saber, right?"

Slowly Andrew thought and slowly he nodded his head. "I think so…" He rubbed his temples.

"Well think! You've got to remember!"

"I'm trying Little Joe!" Andrew cried exasperatedly. "My head hurts _so_ bad."

Letting his face drop to a smile Joe patted Andrew's arm. "It's alright. I heard you took a pretty good whack to the head. Sheriff said you were out of your mind this morning, kept calling for me."

Andrew nodded. "Doc. Martin was with me when I awoke. I guess I returned to my right mind sometime after Sheriff Coffee left. But I do remember wanting to see you."

Joe smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"Help me. You've got to find out what really happened. I remember…" his voice trailed off and his face scrunched up I pain. "I know I stabbed the old man, but Joe, I swear he was still breathing, or at least I think he was. I just can't remember!" He hit the bed with frustration and his eyes closed in anger.

"You just take it easy," Joe patted his arm. "I'll see if I can find anything out." He stood. "Did you spend the whole day in the bar?"

"I'm afraid so." Andrew nodded.

Joe smiled and called for Roy then turned back to Andrew. "Well, never you mind. I'll get you out of here. Oh, one more thing, where were you before you entered the bar and had the drink with me and Hoss."

"I was…" his voice trailed off and he thought a moment longer before smiling and saying confidentially, "Taylor, I went to see Mr. Taylor about my grandfather's will."

"Alrighty. Take it easy, I'll come back and see you later."

Slowly Andrew exhaled and for the first time he relaxed. "Thanks Joe."

"Anytime." And he turned and strode out of the cell leaving Andrew smiling after him.

"Well?" Roy asked, after they had reentered his office and he was seated behind his desk.

Joe, who had been deep in thought shifted his head slightly to face Roy. "He can't remember what happened. But he swears he didn't do it."

"And I suppose you're inclined to believe him?" Roy stated more than asked, as he sat back and studied the Cartwright before him.

"Yes, I am." Joe shifted on his feet uncertain as his irritation started to well.

Roy sensed this and he held up a hand patiently. "No man's guilty until proven," he said, stating Joe's unspoken thought. "Although I shall have to say that it's looking pretty bleak for Fill. We got an eye witness that seen him do it, and with him not being able to remember what happened…" Roy shrugged, then glanced back at Little Joe. "But I suppose that's not good enough for you, and you're gonna start poking your nose where it don't belong. I suppose you expect me to let you."

Slowly Joe's hat turned in his hands as Roy surveyed him.

"Well," he began at last. "All I have to say is don't make trouble, and please don't be as mule headed as your older brother, and above all don't get hurt. Now go on with you before I give you something to do."

Joe's face lit and happily he walked for the door sliding back on his hat and turning the knob. "Thanks Roy!" he mumbled and pulled the door shut behind him leaving Roy chuckling and shaking his head.

Joseph mounted Cochise and started down the street for the Silver Dollar. Momentarily he pondered where Adam was, but quickly the thought was forgotten as he pondered the ordered and approach he was going to take when asking about Andrew Fill.

Placing an easy smile on his face he walked up to the bar and ordered a beer with all normal chipperness.

"Hey ya' Tom!" he greeted the bartender. "Got a moment?"

"Well I don't know Little Joe." He paused scrutinized his costumer for a moment then shrugged. "What do you need?"

"I came to ask you about Andrew Fill."

"Not you too!" Tom threw up his hands. "I've already told what I know five times! What more do you what?"

"I want you to tell it to me. What time did Fill leave yesterday."

"He left around eleven and he was drunker than most cowboys on a Saturday night."

"Eleven?"

"Yeah, I finally got tired of his company and set him on home. And don't you go asking me what he did the whole time he was here! I've been all over that before." Tom pointed an accusing finger at Joe and started away.

"But Tom!" Joe cried. "I'm trying to help Andrew! At least let me know if you ever heard him throwing around any threats."

Tom stopped glanced at Joe and sighed. "Yes, he was throwing around threats, more than I can count and all of them where about the same. He said he was gonna get even with his grandfather and make him pay, said he might even just do away with the old man. Frankly I'm happy to see him behind bars. I liked Old Mr. Fill and I'm not one bit pleased that Andrew had to kill him, so will you leave me alone?" Tom walked away in a huff and Joe sipped his beer.

Andrew had been just as well liked as Joe himself, and it suddenly puzzled Joe why Tom had taken on an abrupt hate for young Fill. What had caused this rapid change in likeness for Andrew? Shrugging it off Joe turned watching the room as he finished his beer thinking.

His next stop was to the _Taylor Law & Cattle, Co. _and removing his hat he politely walked up to the secretary's desk and asked to see Benjamin Taylor. Looking Joe up and down over a pair of specials the secretary sighed.

"And what is your business with Mr. Taylor?"

"I wish to ask him a few questions about his man Thorps."

The secretary's eyes darted behind Joe, and half turning Joseph spotted Thorps sitting in a chair leaning against the wall smiling at him. Turning back Joe's eyebrows rose in a pleading look. Again the secretary sighed and looked down at a book in front of him.

"I see that you don't have an appointment with Mr. Taylor today, and his very busy, I'm not sure that you could talk with him. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Since when did you need an appointment to see Mr. Taylor?" Joe asked, his face dropping and his voice taking on an exasperated tune.

"Mr. Taylor is a very busy man, and it has always taken an appointment to see him. You don't think that just anyone can walk in here and have a friendly little chat with Mr. Taylor whenever they want to!" The secretary's voice had grown more and more defensive as he talked and Joe started to lose more and more of his thin patience.

"Look, I'm not here to take up and hour of his oh _so_ precious time. I'd just like to ask him a few questions!" Joe cried, keeping his voice in check and cooling his fast temper.

A chair hit the floor with a thud and Thorps slowly got up and walked to Joe patting his shoulder.

"And what questions did you have for Mr. Taylor, sunny-boy?" Thorps asked, good-humoredly.

Joe considered telling the man that he was not his boy, nor did he like the fact that Thorps' hand was still gripping his shoulder, but he decided it would be a waste of breath.

"I wanted to ask him a few questions about Andrew Fill, although I see that as no business of yours."

"Well, sonny-boy, since it's I who gets to decides who gets to go in that office I'd say it's all my business. You see, Mr. Taylor gets tired of annoying little distractions and he hired me to see that he doesn't get any. Now, if you would just tell me what it was that you was going to talk about―"

"I thought Mr. Taylor's secretary was the one who deiced who gets to see Mr. Taylor." Joe interrupted.

"Well, if you have an appointment then its left up to funny-face there, but since you ain't got no appointment to speak of, you'd better come up with a good reason to let me let you go in there."

"You know Mr. Thorps, I'm currently investigating the murder of Edward Fill and you not letting me go in there makes your employer highly suspicious as well as yourself." Joe smiled and Thorps frowned.

"You got a badge sonny-boy? Or are you doing the work for the sheriff, or on your own accord?"

"I'm doing this in representation of, Andrew Fill."

Thorps smiled. "Then you ain't no law man just some nosey kid poking his nose in things it don't belong in."

Sizing Thorps up Joe set his jaw. Thorps was a big man, a very big man, and was used to fighting, and fighting professionally. That's why Taylor had hired him to watch the office and do whatever odd hard jobs that Taylor wanted. Joe had no qualms about take on Thorps, although at that moment he considered it. He considered sending his elbow into the man stomach then giving him a hard left to the jaw, but Joe knew it would be foolish. Thorps was big, quick and it would only cause trouble and that was exactly what Roy had told him to stay out of. Trouble.

Placing his hat on his head Joe looked back at the secretary. "Well then, if I must have an appointment, give me an appointment."

Thorps patted Joe on the shoulder. "Well I think that's a right smart idea. Tell him funny-face, when can he see Mr. Taylor," Thorps said, to the secretary.

Glaring at Thorps, the secretary glanced back at his schedule and thought a long moment. "I suppose you could see him tomorrow at three, but only for half an hour."

Joe shrugged. "Well if I really must wait. You sure he's not busy right now? I mean if I were to check…" he began, trying a different tactic.

The secretary glared and Thorps tightened his grip. "Now sonny-boy, don't go troubling yourself. Besides, as you were told Mr. Taylor's busy."

"Yeah? Supposing you were mistaken…I mean perhaps you missed it, maybe he's free. I mean tomorrow at three? That's way out of the way for me―"

"You can't keep the appointment?" the secretary asked.

"On no, I can keep it, I just thought it'd be a whole lot easier if I could see him right now…" Joe looked from face to face with raised eyebrows but got glares in return. "No? Well I guess I'll be seeing you then. Bye, _boys._"

Joe walked from the room and Thorps stared after him fists clenching and unclenching. Even though he had won, he still had a feeling that Little Joe had come out on top.

"How does he do that?" he muttered.

The door the Taylor's office flew open and Taylor poked out this head. "Who was just here?" he snapped.

"Joe Cartwright, but don't worry boss I got rid of him." Thorps smiled with please.

"You did?" Taylor asked in surprise. "Why'd you do that for? I would have liked to have seen him! Thorps you…" Taylor sighed. "Go get me some coffee!" and he slammed the door shut leaving Thorps cursing the Cartwrights and heading off to get his boss a cup of coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Adam Cartwright slowly rode his horse down the unusually busy street of Virginia City as he headed for the black and white pinto that was swishing it's tale in annoyance.

"_Now only to find its rider," _Adam thought, as his business in town was finished and he assumed, or hoped Joe was done too. "Speaking of the dickens," Adam mumbled aloud, as Joe stepped around a corner and headed for Cochise.

Adam, by that time had almost reached his brother and Joe's eyes landed on him.

"Done?" Adam asked, stopping his mount and looking down at Joe.

Stepping off the boardwalk, Joe waited until he was mounted before answering the question so delicately placed before him. "Yeah, I guess so," he answered hesitantly. He was going to find Sir Edward's real murderer, but he needed a minute to think and decided it best to travel home and start again tomorrow.

"Do you know what day's the trial?" Adam asked, waited a few moments and finally glanced at his brother with a crooked eyebrow. Loudly he cleared his throat. "Sir Edward was a good friend of Pa's," Adam stated loudly and slowly Joe turned his head.

"I know?" He looked somewhat puzzled.

Playing with his reins Adam kept his eyes straight ahead for some moments. "I did some asking around, about Andrew and…" he allowed his voice to trail off as he considered how to respond to the argument he knew was coming, besides it was better to make Joe wait.

And Joe did wait, he waited until they were a good mile out of town before turning back to Adam impatience clearly written on his face. Moving his horse forward he brought Sport to a halt and turned to Adam.

"And what did you find?"

Considering his brother for a moment longer Adam squarely looked Joe in the eye. "Andrew Fill killed his grandfather." He stated simply, gently but firmly.

"What make you think your right?" Joe asked, his temper heating and his voice thin.

"I had a talk with Horace, Edward's foreman. He told me Edward and his grandson hadn't been getting along, and that this wasn't the first time that Andrew and his grandfather had argued. He said that just the other day Edward has horse whipped Andrew in front of all the ranch hands and Andrew had sworn he'd make his grandfather sorry for that." Adam shrugged. "According to Horace the will was the last straw."

Joe silently listened to everything Adam said, and to Adam's great surprise he didn't say anything, in fact they sat in silence for a long time as Joe looked miserably at the ground. Finally he turned Cochise and started away riding alone side Adam.

"I can't believe that," Joe said, as the halfway mark for the ranch passed. "Andrew didn't like his grandfather. I know they never got along, constantly fighting. I know Andrew _talked_ about doing away with the old man, a lot. But I just can't accept the fact that he would actually kill his grandfather. Andrew simply didn't have it in him. I know he couldn't."

Their conversation went for another long pause and finally Joe sighed. "I mean, why would he? Killing his grandfather wouldn't let Andrew benefit in anyway. Surely there was someone else who wished to see, Sir Edward, dead."

"I suppose. Timothy Campler never had much use for Sir Edward, but I hardly doubt he would kill the man." Adam turned to Joe with a half-smile. "Timothy doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would murder Edward simply because Edward beat him to the land he now owns."

"True…What about Simon? The blacksmith's son," Joe asked, after a moment reflection. "Edward made him pretty mad when lashed him for drinking on the job."

Adam snorted. "Simon would never do anything this drastic."

Joe's head sunk and he went back to thinking. He snapped his fingers and smiled. "I got it! Jerry Timperman!"

Adam's face fell to a scoff and he glanced at Joe. "Jerry is _way _too respectable a person to murder Sir Edward. Besides, Jerry owns a controlling share in the Virginia City mines and has nothing to gain by killing Sir Edward."

"But he did threaten him. Didn't he? Last year at elections, when Edward exposed that Jerry was cheating on the votes."

Adam nodded. "But later he came back and made a public apology and the two haven't seen each other since. And remember, Joe, Edward had more friends than enemies, and Andrew hasn't been very well liked lately."

"What?" Joe asked, surprised at this new information. "Why not?"

"Seems he's become rather a nuisance in town, as of late. Spends a lot of time in the Silver Dollar, and has shot up the town a few times. Been in and out of jail a lot in the past few months. Andrew's made enemies of just about everyone in town."

Joe's face dropped. "I had no idea."

Adam nodded, and there was another long pause before Joe slowly shook his head. "I still say Andrew didn't do it." He lifted his face to meet Adam's gaze and the two paused a moment.

"Alright Joe, you are entitled to feel however you want and I won't stop you from looking into this matter yourself. But, I don't want you to tell Pa anything about this, okay? Edward was his friend, and I don't want unnecessary trouble. So let's just keep this between you and me, agreed?"

Slowly Joe nodded his head and a smile lit his whole face. "Thanks Adam," his eyes danced with pleasure and Adam smiled, smacking the brim of Joe's hat.

"Just do me a favor. Don't get into any trouble."

Laughing, Joe nodded. "I promise, Adam."

Picking up the pace the two rode the rest of the way home in silence.

Pain shot up his leg, and his head snapped up as his eyes darted across the table at his brother Adam,angry clearly there. He was going to say something to his brother, when he realized that Adam's eyes kept darting from him to his father, and suddenly it dawned on him that Ben was calling his name. The whole process took no more than a few seconds, and Adam's input was lost on Ben.

"Joseph?" Ben's face was in a frown. "What's the matter with you boy?"

"Sorry, Pa," Joe stuttered. "I guess I was just daydreaming."

Ben's eyebrows shot up and his face relaxed some. "Yes well, you've seem to be in a daydream ever since you got back from town. What was it that Andrew wanted to see you about anyway?"

Joe's eyes darted to Adam who shook his head. Although Ben missed the exchange, for he had looked back at his dinner, the look was not lost on Hoss who took note and frowned. What were his brothers up too?

"He…" Joe fumbled for a moment and Ben's head came up his eyes resting with guarded patience back on Joe. "He wanted my advice." Smiling at his reply he went back to his dinner that he realized he had barely started, although everyone else was almost done.

Setting his fork down Ben leaned ever so closer to his son. "And what was it that he wanted your help with?"

Wishing that he had chosen the furthest seat form Ben, Joe's eyes glanced almost unnoticeably at Adam and he fumbled with his napkin. _"Will Pa really be as mad as Adam seems to think? Was there something about Sir Edward and Pa that I don't know about?" _Joe questioned himself as he paused for another answer. "He wanted me to talk to Mr. Taylor about…" he glanced at his father and noted his eyebrows starting to draw together. "About Mr. Thorps."

The eyebrows closed the gap and Joe's heart sank. "Isn't he the one who saw Andrew murder his grandfather?"

There was another long pause as Joe considered where this conversation was going. The air was thick and Joe had a feeling that he was about to get a lecture if he didn't think of something fast. _"Why couldn't Adam answer?" _

"Pa," Adam started as if he had just read Joe's thoughts, and Joe's head came up with surprise. Sometimes he wandered about his oldest brother. "Pa, Joe was just looking into a matter for Andrew. They were longtime friends after all."

Ben's eyes never left Joe as Adam delivered his speech, but as it ended he glanced at Adam. "Yeah," He shook his head and turned back to his dinner.

Looking at each other the two sighed relived and Hoss nudged them both under the table his face in a questioning frown. Adam shook his head and Joe mouthed "Later," with a nervous look at Ben and then back to his food.

Three excuses where hurriedly made and three people went retreating out of the dining room after dessert had been finished. Ben watched them go sipping his coffee and shaking his head.

"Boys," he muttered.

"What's this all about, Little Joe? What are you and Adam up too?" Hoss demanded, once all three of them where in the barn.

Letting out a long sigh Joe ran his finger through his hair. "Boy did I think we were gonna get caught. I thought for sure Pa was gonna blow up at me." Joe smiled to Adam.

He nodded and made his way over to Sport. "You're just lucky I guess."

"Luck didn't have anythin' to do with it," Hoss snapped and grabbed Joe's arm. "What are you up too?"

Pulling his arm away Joe's face dropped to a frown and he walked to Cochise. "Nothing Hoss. I'm just looking into the murder of Sir Edward."

Hoss' mouth gaped wide and he looked at Joe in disbelief. "Are you crazy! Do you know what Pa will say when he finds out?"

"Now what's come over you, Hoss? You and Adam. What has you so stirred up about me looking into this case?" He started to brush down his horse as he waited for a reply.

Hoss looked at Adam. "You didn't tell him?"

Adam shook his head, and Joe stopped looking at the both of them.

"Tell me what?"

Hoss looked at his feet and Adam went back to brushing Sport. "I'm not really sure…" he stopped, considered Joe for a moment and set down his brush. Walking out of the stall, he went and sat on a stack of feed sacks and placed his chin on his thumbs. "Joe, not many people know this, including Andrew Fill, and what I am about to tell you stays with you." He looked at Joe who nodded in agreement interest at its climax. "As you may well know Edward's was an Englishman, Pa met Edward's only son, Clinton, while he was still a sailor. Edward's was visiting family in Boston and took Clinton with him."

"Clinton Fill, being the spoiled brat that he was, ran away from his father and spent a year at sea working on the ship that Pa sailed for. I'm told that the two became very close friends, so close that when you found one, you almost always found the other as well. Of course Edward's was insanely worried about Clinton, having lost his wife at childbirth, and had remained in Boston searching for his son. When the ship returned home, Edward found his Clinton, and the two of them left shortly after, but not back to marry old England, Edward took his son West." Stopping Adam surveyed Joe making sure that he understood.

With a nod from him, Adam continued. "Clinton was free willed and very high spirited. They traveled all over the western half of the U.S. as Clinton went from one jail to the next. He finally met a girl and they were married causing Clinton to settle his wild ways enough for his father to buy the land and build a ranch here. Clinton never liked his first wife, the marriage was actually arranged by his father, and their marriage was always filled with strife. Anyway, Clinton and his father moved here very shortly after Pa returned from New Orleans with Marie. Clinton and his first wife had already had one daughter by the time they settled in here."

"Adam," Joe interrupted at another pause. "What has this got to do―"

Adam raised his hand cutting Joe off. "I'm getting to that. Clinton and Pa quickly renewed their friendship, and Clinton's wife and Marie died within days from each other."

Slowly Joe nodded his head, "Yes, I kinda remember that."

Adam nodded. "Pa went to spending a lot of time with the man as they shared their grief, and two weeks after Clinton's wife died he married again. Sue, his second wife, had been a saloon girl and was just as wild as Clinton if not more so. The two were made for each other, and Edward never forgave Clinton for marrying again."

"I still don't see what any of this has to do with―"

"Andrew is five years younger than you correct?"

"Yes."

"When Andrew's parents died, Pa and Edward grew very close together. Very close."

"So―"

"Joe, Clinton killed his first wife."

Joe's face went to shocked horror and for a moment he said nothing. "But I can't believe that Pa would go around with a man that killed his first wife?" he finally sputtered

"Nobody knew about it until after his death. In his will he admitted to poisoning his first wife."

The barn fell into a deathly silence. "Andrew didn't know that?"

"No, he was never told. No reason why he should have been. Pa never was able to get over the fact that Clinton would do that. Edward never accepted this, and he blamed Sue, and took all his violence out on Andrew."

Joe went to sit on a bucket and for a long time the barn was quiet.

"So why would Pa care if I looked into the matter at hand?"

Hoss looked to Adam then slowly walked to Joe. "Joe, Pa, he feels sort of indebted to Edwards. Kind of feels bad for sticking up for Clinton for all those years when Clinton had done murdered his first wife."

"But wouldn't he want me to look into it, so we can be sure that we have the right man?"

"Joe," Adam rose and came to stand with Hoss. "After Clinton's first wife died there was an inquirer. Many people were suspicious as to why Clinton married again so quickly and why his wife's death was such a mystery. I mean she died for no apparent reason. Many people started to say Clinton had finally done away with his wife, and Pa stood up for Clinton. In fact because of Pa there never was a trial and the matter was never looked into. When the will was read Pa was never able to…" Adam's voice trailed off as he was unsure how to put his next statement and Joe nodded.

"I understand, I think. He wouldn't want me making the same mistake he did?"

Adam nodded.

"So you think it's best if I don't tell him until absolutely necessary?"

"I hope that time never comes. And Joe, if you do find that Andrew is innocent, make sure that you have _all _thefactsbefore you tell anyone."

Joe nodded. "Yes, I can do that." Slowly he lifted his eyes. "I know you told me on the ride home that you think Andrew did it, but is that because of what his father did or because of what you found?"

"I don't have anything against Andrew. I don't think he should be charged with his father's short comings. Although Andrew is very much like his father, I would not condemn him on feeling alone. Regardless of what I felt, I will always consider facts too. At the moment all the facts point to Andrew." Adam shrugged. "So at the moment, I believe Andrew killed his grandfather, and I will continue to do so until proven wrong."

"Well, I don't think he did it, and I'm going to try my best to prove otherwise."

"And I wish you luck, just don't break your neck doing it, and don't make Pa mad," softly Adam punched Joe's chin with a smile and he returned to brushing his horse.

"What's taking you boy's so long?" A voice boomed from outside the barn and three head's turned to the door as Ben walked in. "I've never known you three to spend so much time out here, unless you're doing something that you don't want me to know about." He smiled at three smirking faces.

"Now Pa, there ain't nothin' that we would ever hid from you. Unless of course it was your birthday, then…" Hoss spoke up.

Ben chuckled and went to stand with his son. "Joseph? Something wrong? You seem so districted," Ben asked, seeing a deep frown on Joe's face.

Quickly he smiled. "Oh no, Pa, nothing's the matter. I've just been thinking some things over and I guess it's got me sorta districted."

"Well, just so long as you don't make the rest of us suffer because of it." Ben smiled.

"No sir," Joe smiled back.

With a nod Ben started back to the house and Hoss happily went with him. Joe, casted a long glance at Adam, busy brushing Sport, and with a mischievous grin ran after his father. _"Adam volunteered to do the chores after all,"_ Joe thought excusing his actions as he remembered his brothers excuse earlier to escape the dinner table.

Adam watched Joe go and frowned but continued with what he was doing shaking his head. _"Sometimes…" _he silently thought and patted Sport.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The house on the hill had stood there close to ten years braving every storm, beast, and person that might have founds it's way disposed on its doorsteps. Lonely and greatly in need of repair was it, but proudly it stood and many wandered why. The two story ranch house told a story of someone who had traveled west long ago, started their dream and failed.

Story had it, that the husband had slowly gone insane as his ranch had slowly withered away, and in the end had murdered his wife and child shortly before killing himself. It was, of course, just a story that had been made up to fit the old withering house, but as the house aged so did the story, until it was stated as fact instead of the fiction that it was. People had deemed the house haunted, and children would dare each other to enter, but none never actually would. Even adults shied from the place, and as Joe Cartwright slowly rode past it, he watched the house; never taking his eyes off of it for fear that the man from the past would jump up and claim one more victim.

This was a rather silly thought, but the weather was rather melodramatic, the sky being over cast, and Joe's hair was standing as the electricity was thick in the air. Cochise even pranced anxiously and Joe forced himself not urge Cochise on. The front door to the house banged open and shut as the wind rippled through the tall July grass, and it caused the floor boards to creak as if someone unseen where crossing them. A shutter―one of the few the still stood upright―suddenly fell from its perch and crashed to the ground.

Joe already had his hand resting on his gun and as it hit the ground he drew and fired. Instantly he felt stupid and smiled sheepishly at himself as he put the gun away and kicked Cochise into a trot. He was heading from town to Timothy Campler's ranch. He had gone to town on an errand for Ben, and for his appointment with Mr. Taylor, but Mr. Taylor had been away on urgent business, and Joe's appointment had been move to the next day. Irritated was he when the news had reached him, but there was nothing he could do about it, and off to the saloon he had gone. He had bumped into someone at the bar who had given him some information about Andrew's case and had hurried off to the Campler ranch to have his questions answered.

The house was settled in a far corner of the Campler spread. The area around the house was kept well-tended, and since the house sat close to a lake there was grass all year around that was kept short and trimmed. Flowers were planted expertly about the place, and tall graceful trees sat cozily around the yard. It made Joe feel as though he had just entered a plantation in Virginia, even though he had never seen one.

The house was two stories with four tall white columns all lined in a row stand proudly, and the porch was all red brick. Campler hadn't gotten the land he wanted, but he was the richest person in Virginia City only under the Cartwrights and the Fills. But you never would have guessed it, for Campler had put a great deal of his money into his house and yard giving the appearance of being the strongest of the three. He was in fact the weakest.

Slip-noting the reins to the post, Joe slowly dismounted and walked up the four steps to the double doors. Knocking lightly he looked about as he waited for an answer. It came some moments later opened by a small servant girl in a black dress complete with a frilly cap and apron.

"Mr. Cartwright." She smiled opening the door and allowing him to enter. Gently she shut the door and indicated for him to follow her down three steps into the foyer and off to the left into a small parlor. "I'll tell Mr. Campler you're here."

Hat playing in his hands, Joe smiled at her as she left then walked about the room in a board-nervous sort of way. He finally ended at the window where he stood looking out when Mr. Campler entered the room.

"Joseph!" Campler greeted, with a huge smile and offered his hand. Joe took it and the two shook as Campler offered him a seat. "So, what brings you out this way?"

"Well, Mr. Campler…" Joe studied the hat playing in his hands. "Have you heard of the death of Sir Edward Fill?"

"Yes, sad business that." Campler sat back in his chair with a sorry frown. "I hear it was the grandson that did him in, too."

Joe nodded his head. "Yes," he said slowly. "Mr. Campler, I understand that you were at the ranch the day of the murder." Joe's head came up and his eyes landed on Campler.

Frowning deeply Campler nodded. "Yes I was there; I went to see Sir Edward on business."

"I understand you had a fight with Sir Edward?"

Face flushing Campler stood. "Yes, there was a disagreement over the price of…Why do you care?" He snapped back around at Joe and his eyes landed coldly on the Cartwright.

"I'm trying to clear Andrew's name. He didn't kill his grandfather and I'm trying to prove his innocence. You were there the day it happened and I was curious to know why."

"Well if you think I did it you would be wrong."

"Not at all Mr. Campler." Joe said smoothly. Although he didn't think Campler did it, he didn't have any reason to assume he was innocent either.

Running his hand through his hair Campler sat. "Well I suppose I might as well come clean with it then. I went to see him about the price of his horses. I had bought some off of him, but at the last minute he changed the price, and I was not going to pay. I went to talk to him, and we had some words, but in the end a new price was settled on and I left for home."

The room fell silent and Campler shifted uncertain.

"Mr. Campler, as I understand it, you did get home until a little after four o'clock am. It's only a four hour ride from Edward's house to here, and if you left there at a decent hour you should have been home sooner."

A frown once again appeared on Campler's face and he rose from his seat. "You are well informed Mr. Cartwright," he said, with disapproval heavy in his voice.

"I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

"Yes well," Campler cleared his throat and went and got himself a drink. Downing it he turned back to Joe with a smile. "Alright then, I went to see Old Man Ryan, and I spent the rest of the day there. He had a bottle and the two of us shared it."

Joe smiled.

"But don't tell my wife and above all don't tell the sheriff."

"I won't Mr. Campler. Your secret is safe with me." Joe stood and held out his hand. "Thank you for all your help Mr. Campler. I should be going now, sorry to trouble you.

"No trouble at all Mr. Cartwright, I was happy to help. Please feel free to call anytime." Campler smiled and shook Joe's hand heartily and showed him to the door. "Tell your father I say hello."

"I will." Joe mounted and rode slowly away as Campler watched him go a frown fixed on his face.

"Nosey Cartwrights," he muttered, and headed inside.

The clouds grew thicker and a rumble of thunder sounded now and again, but it had not started to rain as the electricity grew stronger. Slowly Joe rode down the lowly trail for Old Man Ryan's place. He realized as he rode that he really hadn't had time to gather his thoughts on his investigation, so bring Cochise to a halt he dismounted and went to lean on a builder leading Cochise behind him.

"Well Cochise what do you think of it?"

The horse shook it's head and Joe smiled slightly.

"That's exactly how I feel. You see the more I dig into this the more confusing it seems. I know Andrew is innocent, yet why do I know that? All evidence says he did it. The whole town thinks he did it. Even Adam seems to think he's guilty, so why do I think otherwise? Why am I riding up to Old Man Ryan's place right now? Why do I have any reason to doubt what Mr. Campler just told me? He's always been honest before, why start lying now?"

Cochise shook it's head again.

"I know boy, I mean he was gone longer than he should have been, and he was at the scene of the crime. So I have to be one hundred percent sure that he was where he said he was." Mounting again Joe rode on. "Who do you think did it? Campler? For the land? It would give him near about everything. Thorps? Now why would Thorps kill him, he doesn't stand to gain anything. But I never have trusted the man, and he's not been known for his honesty. How about Jerry Timperman?"

Cochise threw it's head high and whinnied.

"So you agree with Adam?" Joe said thoughtfully. "Well, you're probably right. I mean why would he do it? He's has more to lose than gain, so I guess I'd better cross him off the list. Now who does that leave us with? Thorps and Campler." Throwing up his hands Joe sighed. "Oh I don't know! It could have been anyone under the sun! But…" he brought his hands back down and began to consider. "No, those two are the best to start with. We know they were present the day of. So, let's start with Campler."

Hurrying Cochise into a trot he hurried to reach his destination before the storm decided to brake lose.

He was having mixed feelings about seeing Old Man Ryan, for if Campler was telling the truth then Joe was left with Thorps, and how in the world was he ever going to prove it was Thorps? But if it turned out that Campler had been lying that opened more questions than it answered. The biggest one being, why would Campler lie?

Shaking his head to clear it, Joe rode further up the mountain until he was in the clouds and could feel the mist all about him. His hair was close to standing now, and it was deathly quiet, minus the thunder that sounded more often. Knowing that he needed to hurry before the storm opened up and made visibility imposable Joe pushed Cochise into something close to a run. Getting caught on a mountain in a storm was a bad idea, and Joe's worry began to grow. He had seen it where at time visibility was fine, and then the next thing you would know it was pitch black and you couldn't even see the hand in front of your face. He was greatly relieved when he realized he was almost there, and nearly jumped with joy when he saw the cabin just up a head.

It was at that very moment that the storm suddenly broke lose, and the sun disappeared from view making it darker than night. The rain pounded the horse and rider as though rocks where being thrown, and Joe rejoiced that he was close to his destination. A flash of lighting lit up the sky as bright as daylight and the he spotted the cabin just making out his distance as it all disappeared. It was quicker than a blink of the eye, and if he had blinked he might have missed it all. Thunder snapped through the air, so close and loud it made his skin crawl and left him momentarily deaf. He was already soaked to the skin, even though the rain had started less than a minute ago. Another flash of lighting showed at he was almost on top of the house and quickly dismounting he walked the rest of the way until he bumped into the cabin.

He was never more happy in all his life when he finally found himself grouping up the starts onto the porch and for the door. Banging on it he called for Old Man Ryan and waited. Nothing happened and no one came. He then realized that no light was shining from the inside. Pounding again, he hopped he was heard over the deafening sound of the storm about him. Still no answer came, and when the door would not open he put his shoulder to it.

Crashing through the door he went, right over a table and smack onto the body of Old Man Ryan. He froze in horror staring down at the face then scrambling off he moved quickly away from the body. Stumbling to his feet he fumbled about the cabin banging into things and knocking things about until at last his searching hands found a lantern, and a bright flash of lightning showed where the matches were. Lighting the lantern, he slowly and very unwillingly walked back to the still finger and kneeled next to it getting a good look.

Old Man Ryan had been shot twice, once through the head and once through the abdomen. The head wound was a gross ghastly sight, whoever had shot him through the head had laid the muzzle of their gun on his forehead and pulled the trigger. The other wound, was short form a farther difference but it had still been at close range. And as he looked up he saw it laid out before him.

The table had been laid for two, and even though his topple over it had disarrayed things slightly, you could still tell company was planned. Walking to the fireplace Joe got a fire going, and saw that a pot of stew was still hanging over the fireplace, and a loaf of bread, now burnt to a crisp. So the Old Man had been fixing a meal, one he never got to eat, and one he had been intending to share with a friend. Who?

The sight of Old Man Ryan appalled Joe, and after the fire was started he took a blanket and rolled the dead body up in it, placing it in a fair corner and someplace where he wouldn't look often. Once that was done he braved the storm and put Cochise up with Old Man Ryan's mule. He found himself almost whishing he didn't have to go back to the house. He didn't look forward to spending the rest of the storm cooped up in a house with a dead man, but nothing was to be done for it, and back to the house he went. A flash of lightening lit up the place in an odd bluish glow and Joe shuddered at it. Walking into the house, he disregarded the food that had once been started, and made a pot of coffee, a nice strong pot.

A clock on the mantle chimed three and Joe looked up surprised. It felt like midnight. Three, he was supposed to have been in town with Mr. Taylor at that moment. Not stuck in a cabin with a dead body. Thorps had been more than happy to tell him that morning as soon as he had gotten into town that his appointment had been canceled and scheduled for tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," Joe sputtered. "Life is full of tomorrows."

Well it was for some, but not Old Man Ryan. He was staring into the fire impatiently watching the coffee boil when something in the fire caught his attention and he grabbed up the poker pulling it from the flames. A cigar. Old Man Ryan didn't smoke cigar's he smoked a pipe. The cigar was new, at least, it had been there since that morning, which made sense, for Ryan's wounds looked to be about that old. Carefully Joe sniffed the Tabaco and he smiled ever so slightly. There was only one person in Virginia City that smoked that brand.

Mr. Taylor had always been proud to declare that no one else smoked, or had his brand of cigar. Joe had even known him to change his brand on occasion if someone else had tried to copy him. No, Mr. Taylor always had to be original.

"Just might be your down falling," Joe muttered as he studied the cigar.

Carefully he placed it in his pocket, then lifting the coffee pot he poured a cup. Crouching next to the fire he thought long and hard before standing and walking about the room.

"_But why would, Mr. Taylor kill Old Man Ryan? Unless of course he knew something that Taylor didn't want anyone else to know."_

Sitting at the table Joe sighed. Suddenly this whole case had gotten very complicated. His head hurt, and he looked about completely frustrated. How in the world was he ever going to figure this mess out? The more he looked into it the more complicated it got.

Removing his hat from his head Joe thumped it on the table and shivered slightly. Standing he got a blanket and sat back in his chair sipping the hot coffee and thinking.

"_What a mess."_

* * *

_Thank you all who are still reading sorry that posting is rather slow. Thank you for overlooking and grammar errors found. I currently have been editing myself and that's proven to be more difficult than first thought. I hope you have enjoyed thus far, I actually am stumped as to what to do next, so any comments or thoughts you might have would be greatly appreciated. _

_Thanks!_

_~indahom_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He was suddenly startled awake when his head went for a dip and fell into open space. Sitting up, Joe was astonished that he had actually fallen asleep. Working the kinks from his back, he stood and walked to the fire place starting it again. The sun was shining brightly and Joe glanced at the clock to find it was ten. He shook his head. Ten? How in the world had he slept so long? The heat outside was already stifling, and it was humid. Flies buzzed all over the place and the mosquitos were worse. Hastily he had a fast breakfast and then heading out to the small shed he saddled Cochise and Old Man Ryan's mule.

He would have buried the old man right there, under the tall pine that stood in the front yard, but he had been murdered and thus Joe had to take him back down the mountain to town and for the Doc's so a bullet could be fished out for further evidence. It was not a job Joe wanted to do, and he almost considered not doing it. But the thought came and left in a blink of the eye. Finding Old Man Ryan's murderer was far more important than Joe's discomfort.

Slowly they made their way down the long lonely trial back to Virginia City. Up on the mountain the humidity was nonexistent, but as Joe started to reach lower altitude the hot muggy day hit him with all its force and he rode slightly hunched in the saddle miserable in the heat and his constant failures.

How in the world would he ever unravel this mess? It was a mess too, with more people dead than Joe liked. He could hear Old Man Ryan's leg hitting the saddle and his hands occasionally smacking the cinch. He sensed the Old Man behind him, and although he dared not look, it was as though he was staring right at him. All Joe could picture was the last way he saw Old Man Ryan's face. It sent a shiver up and down his spine every time the picture came back to him. At least whoever had shot the Old Man had shot him with a hand gun, for if it had been anything else, at that range…his face would have been gone.

It was rather odd if you thought about it. Your scull is very think, hard to break, and not something easily penetrated, but yet a bullet could go through it like butter, with little or no effort at all, and Joe shivered in the heat.

Heat, that wasn't even the word for it. It was beyond heat, it was scorching hot.

"_At least it's not the desert," _Joe thought grimly to himself hoping it would help to easy the heat. It did nothing.

Sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. It ran down his back making his shirt stick and his back crawl. Reaching a small stream Joe happily swung down from his mount and greedily drank the ice cold mountain water splashing some on his face and washing his neck. Fetching his canteen he emptied the stale, lukewarm water and filled it afresh, sighing. He smiled happily about him as he filled his canteen feeling halfway human again and enjoying his brake in the shade. Craning his neck he looked at the sun and guessed it to be almost noon.

Standing, the cap was hastily shoved back on and he quickly mounted, taking care to avoid looking at the mule and its burden. Pushing out of the brush, Joe spotted the main rode to Virginia City and directing Cochise, he trotted down the road.

His shoulders were slumped once more as he entered the heated streets of Virginia City and made his way slowly down the street for Dr. Martin's. He was well aware of the attention he was drawing. The small crowd that had begun to follow him and the solemn faces of those who realized who the body was.

Everyone liked Old Man Ryan, and everyone was well acquainted with Old Man Ryan's moonshine. It was the best alcohol you could get your hands on, and everyone had bought from Old Man Ryan. It was going to be no small thing that he was now dead, and the secret of his recipe dead with him. Old Man Ryan was a very likable fellow. Good with jokes, fast to assess a situation and uncommonly clever. There wasn't a sole in the world that had anything against the man, and his murderer was going to be a hard man to track. Who would want to kill Old Man Ryan anyway?

At least Joe had a lead, at least _he_ had a place to start, or did he? Mr. Taylor wasn't exactly the best person to accuse of murder. No, if Joe was going to find anything out he was going to have to tread lightly.

When he finally reached Dr. Martin's office a small gathering of people had already formed waiting for him, and they had the body off the mule and into the Doc's before Joe could even finish dismounting. He wasn't at all surprised to see Roy Coffee already waiting for him, arms folded, on the boardwalk. Someone had run for the sheriff and by the look on his face, Joe guessed Roy was none too happy.

"Where did you find him?" Roy hooked a thumb and no one needed to ask who he meant.

The crowd that had followed was suddenly gone and Joe stood alone with Roy in the heat.

"I found him yesterday afternoon at his place."

Roy nodded. "And what were you doing up that way?"

"I was looking into some information that Mr. Campler had told me, I wanted to know if Campler had told the truth."

"Did he?" Roy's interest surprised Joe and he shook his head with a small relaxed smiled. Maybe he wasn't as alone in this investigation as he thought.

"I don't know. Ryan was dead when I got there."

Again Roy nodded. "Murder I suppose."

"Yup I brought the body in to…" Joe's face scrunched up. It wasn't really a happy thought. The Doc digging through a dead man's body for a bullet. "I wanted to know what type of gun the bullets were fired from."

"Yeah," Roy agreed. "Better get yourself cleaned up, you look terrible. Come see me at the office when you're done." Roy walked away and Joe glanced at himself realizing for the first time that he was covered in mud.

Smiling slightly, he walked away to the hotel to get a room and a bath. He found himself suddenly tired, and after paying a boy to put Cochise up for him he headed into the hotel, flopping his saddle bags on the counter, he waited for the clerk to address him.

"Howdy Cartwright, looking for a bath?" the clerk asked, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Joe nodded. "And a room." Picking up the pen he signed his name and collected his key walking stiffly up the stairs and for his room.

He tossed the saddlebags onto the bed, then after a moment his hat joined them, and finally Joe himself sat rigidly on the bed. He sat there for some moments thinking, before finally rubbing his head and going off to take a bath.

Three hours later a well-rested and freshly cleaned Joe Cartwright stepped outside the hotel and walked leisurely down the street for Roy's office. The sheriff glanced up as Joe entered his head buried in paper.

"How's Andrew?" Joe asked, as he gently shut the door and headed for a seat removing his hat and propping it on his knee.

"Andrew's a lot better, which is a good thing for his upcoming trial."

"Yeah," Joe sunk down in his chair eyes on his hat. "When is that?

Roy set down his papers a slight smile appearing. "It begins tomorrow."

"Really?" Joe sat up his voice squeaking slightly with surprise. "So soon?"

"Well, both attorneys claim that they're ready, and it's really not all that soon. Sir Edward was killed three days ago. By the way, Ryan was shot with a 45 Colt."

Joe's face dropped slightly as he considered this. Taylor owned a 45, although it wasn't well known. It was mostly kept hidden in his safe. Joe only happened to know that he had it, for it happened to been sitting out on the desk once when he had come on business. It was of course not supposed to have been there and Taylor had quickly put it away explaining that he only had it in case he was robbed, and he didn't really know how to use the thing. At the time Joe could have cared less, but now? Now he was curious.

Slowly rising Joe stood. He paused a moment looking at the doors to the cells then shock his head and started out.

"Thanks Roy," He called over his shoulder slamming his hat on his head and walking briskly for Taylor's office.

Taking the stairs two at a time he careful straightened his attired put on a business like face and coolly opened the door.

"Mr. Cartwright," Thorps said as Joe entered. "Mr. Taylor's been waiting for you, wanted to have a word." Thorps hopped up from his chair and opened the door to the office for Joe.

Joe gave him a sideways glace as he carefully entered the office and paused just inside the door watching Taylor.

Taylor was seated behind his desk, his chair facing the wall, and he was leaned back, smoking a cigar. Joe jumped as Thorps closed the door again, and stood unsure staring at the chair. The room was making him uncomfortable and suddenly he wished he was miles away.

"Mr. Cartwright, please take a seat." Taylor smiled pleasantly as he turned in his chair and knocked the ash from his cigar. "I wanted to have a word with you."

Cautiously Joe walked forward and warily he took his seat. "Mr. Taylor, I wanted to talk with you too."

"Good." Taylor smiled. "Mr. Cartwright I shall be brief and right to the point, I wish you to stop your investigations. I will admit to never taking a great liking to your family and your nosy ways, but I will say that this is a warning. I do not wish to prove you wrong in court, and I already have my case established. I think it would be very poor judgment on your part to continue with this case. As I stated, I would hate to have to prove a Cartwright wrong."

Joe's temper grew and he fidgeted in his seat as Taylor's speech was delivered. "And I'd kindly like you to keep your opinions to yourself. Andrew Fill didn't kill his grandfather, and I'm going to prove you wrong. Where did you go yesterday?" Joe asked suddenly and Taylor, whose mouth had opened in protest, snapped shut.

"Where I went yesterday is none of your business young man," Taylor replied coldly. "And if that is all you wanted I will ask you to leave."

"No, that's not all I wanted. I wanted to ask you about the credibility of your man Thorps. Are you planning on using him in court as an eye witness?"

"I am not handling the case personally, a good friend of mine form Carson City will be here tomorrow and he will be handling the case for me. But I do imagine that Thorps will be used as an eye witness, and you questioning his honesty is outrageous."

"Oh is it?" Joe sat back a small smirk on his face. "Thorps was wanted for murder not two years ago, as you well know, for it was you who paid to have him left in your custody."

Taylor stood his face paling. "This is an outrage!" he stammered his voice raising. "There was no real evidence that Thorps was in anyway responsible for that murder and that was why I was able to get the charges dropped." Taylor sat back down his voice returning to normal and confidence once again rising on his face.

"It just helped that the sheriff of that town was a good friend of yours, and was more than happy to drop the charge."

Taylor sat back astounded, how in the world did Joe know all that? Taylor had thought it to be a well-kept secret. But what was a young Cartwright getting at anyway? Was Taylor right to trust Thorps? Shaking his head Taylor frowned. How dare he even consider that.

"Mr. Cartwright, Thorps has more than proved himself to me since he has been in my employment. If his word is good enough for the judge, and sheriff, then his statement is more that good enough for me, and I do not think we should be questioning it in anyway," Taylor said slowly and carefully his confidence returning at each word. "As you can see," his hand swept to his left indicating a table. "The exhibits I have collected for the case tomorrow are more than enough to prove Andrew's guilt."

Slowly Joe stood. "May I?" he asked, pointing to the table.

Taylor nodded and Joe walked over. Arranged, and each carefully labeled, were several items being used as evidence. One was the Saber, still slightly covered in blood and Joe imagined that was to add affect. The other was a whisky bottle, and the third was a poker. Joe paused at each item considering, and it accrued to him that he had never actually heard the full story of what had happened that night and so he turned and asked Taylor, who was more than happy to tell him each and every detail as described to him from Thorps.

As the tail ended, Taylor sat back satisfied at the blank look on Joe's face, Joe slowly placed his hat on his head.

"Thank you Mr. Taylor, you have been most helpful."

Turning Joe walked form the room carefully opening the door and closing it silently behind him. He stood in the outer office, well aware of the two sets of eyes on him thinking.

"_What a rotten mess,"_ he thought slowly and walked form the room his eyes down looking all about in his misery. It wasn't until he was outside and on the boardwalk that he remembered his first intentions of going in there. He wanted to know where Taylor had spent his afternoon. Sighing and with a roll of his eyes he bounded back up the steps threw the door back open into the office before Thorps could stop him.

Thorps had yelled a protest and followed him into the office as Taylor stood from his safe looking at Joe, anger on his face.

"Just what do you mean by barging into my office?" Taylor snapped.

"Mr. Taylor, were you by any chance at Old Man Ryan's yesterday morning?" Joe asked ignoring both Thorps and Taylor.

The anger vanished from Taylor's face and was replaced with cold suspicion. He glanced at Thorps signaling for him to go, then sat at his desk.

"I heard you brought Old Man Ryan into town today. Murdered, or so Thorps tell me."

"That's right," Joe nodded. "I also have reason to believe that you were there."

"And what right have you to believe that?"

Pulling the cigar from his pocket Joe did it slowly and smugly holding it up for Taylor to see. "I believe you are the only person in town that smokes this brand."

Taylor looked at it angrily. "Yes, and I suppose you're going to tell me that you found that at Old Man Ryan's place?"

Joe nodded, and Taylor's face went to a spiteful smirk. "Well if you're considering tying me into _that_ murder forget it, I was riding in the other direction, and you can go see Tammy Williams about it, for it was him I went to see."

"I just might do that, and Mr. Taylor, I would watch my step if I were you, and I would be equally certain that you know exactly where everything is." That comment was added as an afterthought, but Joe was happy to see the affect it had on Taylor, and was even more satisfied when Taylor's eyes darted to his bookshelf and Joe noted the 45 colt sitting out. "_Everything, _Mr. Taylor." Tipping his hat Joe walked confidently from the room and paused once again on the other side of the closed door, this time a smile on his face.

He stood there allowing the secretary and Thorps get a good look at his face, knowing that he was beaming with confidence. Starting out his eyes once again wandered the office and he stopped cold. Walked a few more paces and looked again. It was still there, just peeking out from under the secretaries desk, and Joe's stomach knotted. He glanced up at the secretary who was looking at him funny, and slowly looked at Thorps who wore a frown.

Joe's eyes went back to the object on the floor and the color drained form his face. _"It's not Taylor!"_ and suddenly he felt uncomfortable in the room. Turning Joe hurried out the door down the steps and for the barn. _"Adam! I need to talk to Adam!" _

Jumping up onto Cochise he hurried form town. He needed another opinion and he needed it now. _"How could I have been so blind?"_ Joe thought as he raced from town.

Thorps glanced uneasily at the secretary who shrugged his shoulders shook his head and bent back over his papers. Thirty minutes later Thorps was a top his horse speeding along a trail planning on cutting of the Cartwright. Just behind was Joe, and plunging down the hill, Thorps went coming up just in front of the charging rider.

Joe had seen Thorps coming just before he got to the road and quickly he pulled on the reins to avoid a collision. Cochise, not read for the abrupt halt reread up on its hind leg in protest.

"Are you crazy!" Joe snapped once again getting Cochise under control.

Thorps sat and smiled, then struck out and punched Joe from the saddle. The move was so fast and so unexpected that Joe had not seen it coming, and it threw him from the saddle on to the ground and his head smacked a rock rendering him unconscious.

Thorps stepped from his saddle ready for a fight and was surprised when Joe didn't get up. Nudging the Cartwright over with his foot, he saw the reason for the lack of response and smiled. This was going to be easier than he first thought! And so it was for the greater part of an hour Thorps stood and used Joe as a punch bag until he grew tired. Mounting up he sent one last glance at the Cartwright and was fairly well satisfied that Joe wouldn't live to see the sun set and he rode away in high spirits.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It wasn't a chore he liked having, but it was something he always ended up getting. Benjamin Cartwright had grown tired of his youngest absents and had commanded Adam to ride to town to fetch him. Ben was in a fit and extremely angry that Joe had not made it home before lunch. He had expected him to stay in town the night, to wait out the storm, but he had also expected him to come straight home the next day, and as the afternoon meal had passed and Joe had still not appeared he grumbled at Adam to bring the boy home.

How he disliked the job. It was always him, never Hoss, and he always had to do it at the most inconvenient times. At least this time the ride was a pleasant way to get away from work, but it didn't help with the heat, not in the least.

His troubled mind did little to keep him company and the irritation deep within began to grow as he grumbled about Joe and how irresponsible that boy could be at times. He considering the many different excuses Joe would have for him, when he rounded the ben, and there just up ahead standing with its head slightly drooped was Cochise and Joe was laying just next to him. It took Adam less than a second to spur Sport on, and he dropped from the saddle before his horse came to a stop. Stooping to one knee, he gently rolled Joe over and was appalled at the bloody, dirty, mess.

"Adam…?" Joe croaked his eyes parting slightly. "Adam...I…Did it…I cracked the case." Every word was an effort and his chested heaved up and down in a wheezing manner as Adam hugged him close.

"Hush Joe, save it." Adam smiled lightly, as his brother's eyes lit and he smiled victoriously.

"I did it Adam," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears and his hand grasping Adam as pain filled his mind and his head slowly fell limp. "I did it," he breathed, and his head fell to Adam's arm and the world around him grew black.

"You sure did," Adam mumbled, as he watched his brother's head fall.

It scared him really. He was sure, for a very short second that Joe had just died in his arms. In fact, the only reason he knew this to be untrue was that Joe continued to shudder from shock. It terrified him, and he pulled Joe closer, before standing to his feet and hoisting his bother onto Sport.

Slowly they worked their way for home, trotting and plodding along the road at a sickening pace. Every bump and toss Adam cringed outwardly as he considered the toll it was taking on Joe, and he thanked the God above that his brother was unconscious.

Slowly and casually they strolled into the ranch yard as though nothing was amiss, and hotly Ben walked out into the yard, wandering how Adam had gotten home so quick. He froze, his eyes glued on Joe. The look made Adam sick, and he instinctively pulled Joe closer as his trembling hand waited for the rise and fall of Joe's chest. It never came.

The air grew suddenly very hot about him, and an intense ringing started in Adam's ears as he suddenly panicked. Dropping form the horse he felt someone helping him and he lowered Joe to the ground his ear falling to his brother's chest. He didn't hear the voices about him, he didn't notice the hands on his shoulders, he was too intent on hearing the beating of his brother's heart. Joe had to be alive, he just had to be. It took a while, boy did it take an eternity, but suddenly he heard the thump that he had been holding his breath for, and it filled his head as he slowly relaxed. It was then that other voices and feelings suddenly flooded his head, and his vision grew black as the blood rushed back to his head with great force. He thought for sure he had passed out but he felt his legs move, and his arms caring something into the house up the stairs and he kicked a door open.

"Adam?"

He felt someone pull him away from the weight he had just placed gently on a bed, and slowly his eyesight returned and Ben hovered over Joe as Hoss was pulling him away.

"I'll go for the doc," Adam said to Hoss, and turned and hurried out of the house, jumping onto Sport and flying down the road.

Three heads turned as a door was closed, and the thumping of feet was heard. It got closer and closer until Dr. Martin appeared at the top of the stairs and worked his way to the landing. There he stopped and looked at the three solemn faces with a shake of his head.

"You Cartwrights add ten years to my age every time I come out here." He looked at Ben and the room tensed waiting for what was to come. Dr. Martin studied the room a full minute before nodding his head. "He'll live, although I should imagine that his recovery shall be rather tiresome, for you and him. He's very lucky you know," Paul said, as Ben hardily shook his hand with a huge smile.

"But he's alright?" Ben asked, releasing the Doctor's hand and looking upstairs.

"Yes, he is alight. Unconscious right now, I'm not sure when he'll wake up, but there is no reason to be concerned, right now."

"Thank you, Doctor." Ben smiled and hurried up the stairs.

Shaking his head the doctor turned to look at the rest of the room. Adam sat on the couch having turned toward the stairs and Hoss stood just in front of the fireplace where he had stopped from pacing.

"Make sure your father gets plenty of rest, and don't try to wake Joe prematurely. I currently want him to sleep."

"Yes, sir, we'll see to it," Hoss answere

d and slowly walked the doctor to the door.

Alone in the living room Adam sat back. He had blamed himself for a very short minute about what had happened to Joe, and he chided himself for not seeing that Joe had been right all along. Adam didn't have the knowledge that Joe had, but he was now convinced that Andrew had nothing to do with the death of his Grandfather, and Joe had figured out who had done it.

Shooting off the couch Adam hurried for the door, slipping on his hat and throwing on his gun belt as he brush passed Hoss.

"Where you goin' in such a hurry?" Hoss called, after his brother.

"To town," Adam said, over his shoulder. "I have something very important to see to."

He disappeared into the barn and Hoss slowly walked that way. He reached the doors, just as Adam came out again leading Sport. He paused and his eyes fell to the reins he was fiddling with.

"I have something to finish for Joe," he said softly ,and his eyes traveled up to the second floor of the ranch house. "Tell Pa not to worry, I've gone into town on business, but tell him only if he asks." He clapped Hoss on the shoulder and mounted, his eye traveling back to second floor. "I doubt Pa'll notice, but if he should―"

"I'll tell him you had business." Hoss smiled. "Don't worry, I'll explain."

Subconsciously Adam smiled faintly and kicked Sport into a trot.

His hands opened and closed as he slowly walked down the boardwalk, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. He walked with intent, and he hoped to gain wisdom. Already he had spoken to Andrew who told him the same he had told Joe. He had sent his apologizes to Joe, and in despair he had told Adam that he shouldn't trouble himself on his account. But it was Andrew that Adam was doing it for, it was Joe. His hand clenched tightly as his mind picture his brother and he walked slightly faster.

Casually walking up the stairs to the one building he hated spending much time in, Adam removed his hat and entered the Taylor Law, & Cattle Co.

One could not explain the immense pain that Little Joe felt as he tossed and turned on his bed. Someone tried desperately to sooth him as they laid a cold cloth on his head gently talking in a comforting voice, and Joe was grateful, but all their efforts were doing little to stop the pain that wouldn't stop. He couldn't get it to stop either, and he couldn't control it. He heard himself cry out in agony as pain would shoot up from his toes and explode in his brain, and it frightened him to hear the own desperation in his voice.

The person bathing his head, must have understood, for they gripped his hand and leaned in close mumbling in his ear.

"_Hush Joseph. You're alright, you're home now, and I won't let anything more happen."_

The words filtered in slowly and mixed with his feverish mind. But he felt comforted by them, even though they did little to help, and he recognized the person as his father, and that was a great relief. His father was there, and everything would be fine. Except for Andrew Fill.

The thought struck him like a wave, and desperately he tried to sit up, fighting the strong hands that held him back. What was it that Adam had said? The trial was in two? Three? Days and Joe had to hurry. But wait, hadn't he solved it?

"_Yes," _he told himself slowly, _"I did. I know who did it!"_ Slight excitement swept through him, causing the pain to heighten for a moment. _"Who to tell?"_ he thought again but his sluggish brain wouldn't think past the thought and irritated he rolled his head harder, and cried. It surprised him really, that he cried, and it was amazing that he even realized he was. But the pain and frustration had grown to great, and as his body began to shut down, so did his emotions, and he cried.

The pain washed up and down his body until he was shaking with cold, although he felt hot, and his head became sticky, making it annoying to not be able to move as he laid on his bed suffering with the blinding pain. He wanted to tell them what he had learned, he wanted to tell them who had done this terrible deed to him, but every time he tried to talk nothing sensible came out of his mouth and at last he gave up in frustration, as he fought with the covers.

It really was irritating that he couldn't get his mind to work the way he wanted it to. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak and for some reason he couldn't get his eyes to open. He felt and heard everything that went on around him, but yet he was unable to move, ask, see for himself. People would ask him questions, and he would try so hard to answer, but his lips barely moved, and his voice was a pathetic groan. His room was stifling hot, his covers where to heavy and hurt like the dickens, but no one moved them, and he couldn't ask. Sweat poured off him, and in a very short time his pillow was uncomfortably wet, making things worse.

His list of irritations, wore on until he couldn't stand the pain, and he toss restlessly on his bed. That was one thing his body would do, toss, but it never help very much with the pain, in fact it mostly made things worse.

Back and forth his head rolled as he fought down his own irritations and tried to concentrate on one thing. Getting his voice to work. He had to tell them what he knew. He had to make sure that Andrew wasn't hung, for they would hang an innocent man.

"_How would you know?"_

His brain questioned, and it bothered him greatly. How did he know? Or how was he going to prove what he did know.

"_Taylor is too clever!"_

Ben worriedly watched his son's head toss on his pillow, and slowly he ran a wet cloth over his head, as he tried to sooth his son. He had sat there for most of the afternoon, and the sun was just setting in the west, as he rose from his seat to watch it with a troubled frown. His hand clung to the lacey certain as he held it back watching the sky change.

"Take a good lawyer to beat him." Joe suddenly muttered from the bed, and Ben turned to look, his eyebrow raising.

"Joe?" he asked softly, going back to the bed and taking his son's hand. "To beat who Joe? Who did this to you?"

That question troubled him the most. Who would do such a thing to Joe? Roy had already come and gone, getting as much information from Ben as was available, and he had promised to do the best he could, but Ben felt that Roy was rather pessimistic about finding the man, and Ben knew he was busy with an upcoming trial. But Roy would do his best, and at the moment that was all Ben, or anyone else could ask for.

Shaking his head, and rising Ben walked back to the window and watched the last few seconds of the sunset. Patient. He would have to be patient. Jo would come around eventually, and then they could have their answers. Ben just hoped it was soon.

Adam stood just inside the shade, leaning again a post in front of the hotel, his hat pulled low, watching the world go by. He had spent all of yesterday, learning as much information as he could, and now he stood on the porch trying to peace it all together. He felt as though he had as much information as Joe, but Joe had said that he had solved it, and Adam considered it all a mess.

Point number one, who killed Old Man Ryan? And was the murder related to Sir Edward's death or something completely different? Point number two, who killed Sir Edward, and why were they pinning it on the grandson, who would stand to profit if the grandson was dead? Point three, where did Mr. Taylor stand in all of this?

He was Sir Edward lawyer, and could stand to gain a lot by Andrew's death. Andrew hated Taylor, and Julia, who Adam understood would inherit all of Sir Edward estate, had always taken a fancy to Taylor. A 45. Colt, had killed Old Man Ryan, and Taylor owned a 45. which was out, and Adam could tell-from his visited yesterday-that it had been recently used. Joe had had a cigar in the pocket of his jacket, and Adam had pocketed it, thinking nothing of it at the time, but considered it great importance now. Had Joe discovered it was Taylor? But if so how was Adam going to prove all this?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Adam watch the town gather at the courthouse for the trial. The trial was to start in an hour, but the case had cause quite a stir in the town, and all were interested in getting a set inside the courtroom.

"Why would Taylor do it anyway? He's _way_ too obvious," Adam muttered allowed.

"Adam?" a young voice called and Adam glanced up, watching a young woman make her way over to him. "Adam," she said again once she had reached him. "You're neutral in all of this, and I was wondering if you would read this letter over for me and tell me what you think." She was of course referring to the trial and Adam took the letter with a smile to the girl Andrew had been going steady with for some time.

"I'd be glad too." He took the letter politely and read:

_Dear Sir,_

_Norman will be there for the proceedings of the party of the first part when taking into consideration the proceedings of the party of the second part. The, the party of the second part wishes to remain in the background and will not come forward at the trial, unless the party of the third part proves difficult. We must comply with the wishes of the party of the second part. This will make our case harder to win, but I will send you the statement made by the party of the second part._

"_I, Benjamin William Taylor, was sitting on the front porch to my office the morning of the twenty-second when the man in question (Andrew Fill) approached me and wished to see the Last Will and Testimony of, Sir Edward Fill. I refused at first, but a note was produced from the man in question, and after I was sure that the note was from Sir Edward, we proceeded to my office where the will was gotten and I allowed the man in question to study it. The will runs as follows," (I have the Will as exhibit A, and you shall get it tomorrow.) "The will did not meet to the young man's likings, and after he read it over in a very short while, he threw it back at me and demanded that a new will was drawn up at once. When I refused he grew violet and threatened my life. I then chastised him greatly and called my secretary into the room telling him to fetch the sheriff. The man in question instantly backed down after that, and apologized for his rude behavior. He then exited my office, and I was greatly concerned for his wellbeing, as his Grandfather, Sir Edward Fill, was my closest friend and client. I had my man, Thorps, follow him," (Thorps will be at the trial to testify against Andrew.) "What my man Thorps found was devastating, but I shall allow him to testify for himself. My man did not return until twelve o'clock at night," (Andrew came to see him at one in the afternoon.) "He was covered in blood and quite out of breath. "Murdered!" he gasped. "He killed the old man!" I reported this to the sheriff, and at two o'clock in the morning, we found the body of Sir Edward Fill, lying face down in his living room, stabbed to death. I went with the sheriff, and we found the man in question, in the livery stable, covered in blood a knife in one hand and a whisky bottle in the other. It was apparent that he was drunk and when we approached him he yelled. "It was an accident!" Thus is all I, Benjamin William Taylor, have to say in my testimony against Andrew Fill._

_The note I just copied for you should be read at the trial. I will bring the original with me the day of. Mr. Taylor did sign it._

_Yours Truly,_

_Nathan Agatha_

Adam looked back at the girl once he had finished and held the letter out to her. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

She lowered her head, as his hand lowered with the letter, and she fiddled with it. "It took it from the postmasters desk, when he wasn't looking. It was supposed to have been given to Mr. Taylor's lawyer yesterday." Her head rose and she grew defensive. "I had to know what he was up too. I wanted to help Andrew in some way and I thought…" her head lowered again. "It was wrong to take the letter."

"Yes, it was wrong, and I believe you should return it to its rightful owner," Adam said sternly, and pointed a finger across the street to a round man, making his way to the courthouse.

"Yes, Adam," she said softly and turned to go but stopped. "Was it…is it very helpful?" she asked her face mournfully.

Adam stepped off the boardwalk and paused to answer her before walking to the courthouse himself. "No, not to me, I already had that information."

He tipped his hat and walked away kicking up small clouds of dirt in the already dry road. He glanced at the sky. They really could do with some more rain.

* * *

A huge apology to all of those who were interested in this. I'm sorry that this is so late, but my summer got crazy busy crazy fast, and my writing was put on hold. Again sorry hope you enjoy, please excuse all errors you might find, I'm far from perfect. :)

indahome


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The courtroom was hot and stuffy, and the trial went much as Adam expected it to. Andrew's lawyer was a nice kid, but he was just that, an inexperienced kid, and the prosecution had pretty much proved Andrew was guilty within the first hour and not much was to be done about it. Adam shook his head from the back of the courtroom, as a recess for lunch was called and the room emptied of people. Slowly he rose and walked to the door the judge exited through, entering in silence.

"Judge Jackson?" Adam said, softly entering the office.

"Adam!" The Judge turned with a smiled and pointed out a chair to him.

Adam took it with a thank you, and the judge perched himself on the edge of his desk.

"What can I do for you?" Jackson asked.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice that the prosecution has very nearly summed up this case, and they've done a rather fine job of making Andrew look guilty." Adam leaned forward in his chair looking up at the judge.

Rising slowly Jackson walked around his desk to his seat. "Yes. I sort of feel sorry for the boy." He laced his fingers out in front on his desk and sighed at his paperwork.

"Judge, I'd like you to postpone the trial," Adam asked, rising.

"Postpone the trial? Adam, are you out of your mind? This town ready to bust apart over the murder of Sir Edward, and what grounds would I have to postpone it on? You said yourself the prosecution has summed up this case rather nicely."

"Judge, Andrew didn't kill his grandfather."

"But how do you know? It can't just be some feeling. You've got to have facts. You've got to prove it to me that Andrew Fill is innocent."

"And I will, but Judge, I need more time and right now I don't have any. I can see what'll happen this afternoon. Barney's a good kid but he's no lawyer, not yet anyway. And Taylor's gone off and hired the best of the best. Now what chance does Andrew stand against him if he's got no one to defend him, and how am I to come up with the evidence I need if I've got no time to work with?"

Judge Jackson stared at his desk for some moments before glancing back up at Adam.

"Alright, you have twenty- four hours. After that and I shall continue on with the trial. I'm sorry but that's all the time I can spare."

"Thanks Judge." Adam smiled putting his hat on and hurrying out the door.

He didn't know where he was headed, and he didn't know what he was going to do but he had to prove Andrew's innocents. Andrew seem liked the best person to start with, so away he headed to the jail rolling around in his mind what he still wanted to know.

Entering, Roy allowed him to go back and see the prisoner, and for some moments Adam said nothing as he stood in the cell staring down at Andrew. Andrew held his head in his hands in utter despair, sniffing softly.

"You ran straight to the barn after stabbing your grandfather, correct? Tell me what happened after that?" Adam asked, slowly.

"I've told you a hundred times. I ran to the barn fetch the whisky bottle out of my bag and downed my sorrows in it. I can't remember anymore, Adam! Why don't you leave me alone?" Andrew snapped, keeping his head down.

"That's all you can remember?" Adam shook his head and took a few steps. "They're gonna hang you, and you can't remember."

"What is there to remember?" Andrew looked up.

"You sat in the barn for two hours downing your sorrows in a bottle of whisky. Is that really all? You didn't see or hear anything?" Adam dropped to one knee falling directly in front of Andrew.

"Well, I heard when the sheriff and Mr. Taylor rode up." Andrew's face screwed up in thought for a moment and he gripped Adam's arm. "You know…I could have sworn that a rider got there very shortly after I ran to the barn." He stood with sudden excitement. "Now that you mention it…I know that there was a rider. I thought at the time that I had imagined it, but on account of what's happened to Little Joe, I could swear that someone came and left shortly after I ran from the house."

"Are you sure?" Adam stood.

"Positive."

"Could you place a time on it?"

"Well…" Andrew thought a moment. "I couldn't be real sure cuz' I was drunk and without a clock…But my guess would be that they came and went about fifteen minutes after I entered the barn."

Adam nodded and slowly walked to the cell door calling for the sheriff. Slowly he turned back to Andrew a puzzled look on his face. "You said that on account of what's happened to Joe, you're sure you heard the horseman. What has Little Joe got to do with anything?"

Andrew hung his head and smiled sheepishly. "To be quite honest Mr. Cartwright, I wasn't a hundred percent sure that I was innocent. You know, with the blow to the head and all, I thought that perhaps I _had_ done away with my old man. But not after they tried to kill Joe. He figured it out, which means I ain't so guilty."

Adam nodded turning back to the door as Roy appeared and let him out. He left the office without a word and headed back to his hotel room. There was one more place he wanted to see before trying to piece all the scrambled pieces together. Changing directions he headed for the livery stable and soon was riding out of town towards the Fill's ranch.

...

The ranch yard was deserted when Adam rode up, and it amazed him how quickly things could get run down. Already a fine layer of sand covered the porch and chairs, piling up in the windowsills and dusting the railings. A tumbleweed had blown into the yard, and gave the place a feeling of loneliness. Adam slowly ascended the stairs and paused at the top to look out over the ranch yard before trying the handle to the door. It was locked, as he had expected, and so he took from his pocket a skeleton key that he had acquired some time ago and slid it into the lock. The door opened with a creak and Adam slipped in.

He stopped at the door, looking all around before heading into the room he knew the fight had taken place. The house hadn't been cleaned since the fight and Adam stooped all around picturing the scene in his mind as he searched. He really had no idea what he was looking for but anything was helpful and so he searched.

He found the spot where Sir Edward had undoubtedly been stabbed, and saw a trail of blood leading away, then back again. Adam frowned. Why did Sir Edward get up only to return back again? Andrew never said where he had stabbed Edward, but the first trail of blood indicated that it wasn't that bad, and the return trail indicated that it was much worse, so why would Sir Edward return back to the corner where he had been stabbed? Had he lost something? Was there something he saw? Adam doubted it, but it was worth a try and so he stooped on the floor hunting all around. He didn't find anything that might have caused Sir Edward to return, but he did find two scuff marks just under the rug, where it looked as though someone had been drug back across the floor. The rug had been smoothed back out and Adam never would have seen them had he not tripped over the carpet.

"_Sir Edward was drug back to the place Andrew stabbed him?"_ Adam frowned and smoothed the carpet back out, standing.

There were no blood marks on the wood floors, and the rest of the house seemed to be in correct order, it was just that front parlor, where Sir Edward had a rug, that anything looked amiss.

"_You can't wash blood stains out of a carpet."_ Adam thought slowly.

The house creaked long and lonely and Adam glanced at the dull sounding clock, ticking away. Two hours. He had spent two hours searching the house. He sighed. It was time to return to town and bring Judge Jackson out to have a look. Things were just not right.

He was just heading out the door of the parlor, when his eyes lit upon the wall and he stopped. There on the wall was the outline of two Sabers. There where nails in the wall, where two Sabers might have hung but neither where there.

"That's odd," Adam said aloud. "Andrew only pulled one down. So where's the other?"

He bent to look at the floor thinking perhaps Andrew knocked it off in his hast to grab the Saber, but none was found and Adam stood puzzled.

His horse blew impatiently from outside, and Adam noted that the sky had grown dark and it was fixing to rain again.

"It's going to be a bad storm." He mumbled, noting the increase of the wind, and the dark look of the sky.

It was an hours ride back to town, and Adam doubted that he could make it back before the storm hit, but he was willing to try. Staying in the house where a man had been murdered was slightly unnerving, and Adam set about to quickly finish his search.

He stooped to the ground just one more time right below the where the Sabers once hung looking for any clue at all, when his eyes landed on a silk handkerchief, just poking out from under the desk. Slowly he moved to it, and lifted it looking it over. The initials, T.C. were carefully sewn into the fabric and Adam's face crinkled in confusion.

"Timothy Campler?" He said allowed, at the same moment a loud clap of thunder rattled the house, and made the room grow dark as the storm ate up the sun and threw it's furry at the earth below.

Adam's hand had landed on his gun as the thunder rumbled away and he turned to face the window with a frown. His horse gave a long frightened cry and he ran to the window just in time to watch Sport pull free and run away. Rain beat against the window, and another loud clap of thunder shook the house. Adam winced at the sound as it cracked through the air and turned to face the room.

"Well, looks like I'm stuck here. For a little while anyway."

The room was dark, and Adam suddenly felt uncomfortable. He tried to shake the feeling, but it would not budge and so he devoted himself to searching for more clues. With his skeleton key, he opened the lock to Sir Edward's safety deposit box and went carefully through its contents. Most of it was useless, but something rather interesting caught his eye.

Sir Edward, had been loaning money to Timothy Campler, and the loan was just about up. It wasn't a little sum of money either. Sir Edward had loaned close to eight thousand dollars, and not a penny of it had been returned. Adam could also see, by going through the account book, that Sir Edward was hurting for money.

"So he was calling in his loan? Threatening Campler if he didn't pay up he'd expose how cheap Campler really is? Motive enough?" he looked around and his eyes fell on the dark corner. "Motive enough to stab a man to death and make it look as though it were the grandson?" Adam frowned.

Timothy Campler was starting to size up to be a first rate suspect, and the handkerchief was pretty close to putting the nail in the coffin. Not totally, Adam felt as though he needed something slightly more to prove Campler's guilt.

Neatly he stacked the papers and put them back in the safety deposit box locking it shut. A floorboard creaked and Adam's head came up sharply. He waited a moment but hearing nothing, went back to his work. It suddenly creaked again and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Someone else was in the house, he could feel it. Slowly Adam dropped his hand to his gun, gently undoing the thong and starting to rise.

His head was down, as he rose to his feet, but on the floor her saw the long shadow of a man, standing in the entry way. His head snapped up and his eyes snapped over, but no one was there, and the house had suddenly grown eerily quiet, minus the rain. He slowly walked toward the door, but was stopped when the house went black as night. Adam froze and waited. A bolt of lightning lit up the room and in the corner, where Sir Edward had been murdered an unrecognizable face stood smiling at him. Adam fired, as the room went black again and a cold laugh echoed about the room. It froze the blood in his veins, and although he never would have admitted it, he was scared.

Quickly he moved for the door, and ran right into the man. He bounced back like a spring and fired again. The laughter grew louder.

A match was lit and the man held it up to his face. Adam stopped, to shocked to move. The face was Sir Edwards! He tried to fire his gun but his fingers wouldn't work as he back away stumbling and the figure moved for him, smiling like the devil.

The hilt of the missing saber came crashing down on his head, and Adam fell to the floor unconscious.

...

Hoss watched the rain pour, frowning every time the thunder would rattle the house and shaking his head when a hug bolt of lightning would strike at the ground. Joe's head tossed relentlessly on his pillow and he groaned in agony. Hoss turned to look at him with pity and moved the cloth on his head, turning to dip it in the bowel of cold water and place it back on Joe's head.

Joseph pulled away from the cloth, and groaned irritated, but Hoss persisted with it anyway.

"It's for your own good you know," he grumbled. "Your fever really is too high, and this room is so dadgum hot!"

He glanced back at the wind and rose from his seat walking to the window, cracking it slightly, to allow the cold breeze from the storm to blow into the room. He turned and smiled at Joe walking back to the bed and sitting.

"There, that oughta help, but you be sure to let me know when you're cold, you hear?"

Joe groaned again and Hoss smiled.

"Yeah, you never did like takin' orders." He stopped and grew serious. "Just make sure you're around to take orders." Then he smiled again. "Course, Doc Martin said we ain't got much to worry about yet. But then again, that was before your fever went on the rise." Hoss shook his head. "Never you mind Joe, you'll get well and beck to bein' just and ornery as before."

The door slowly opened and Ben pocked his head in walking to the bed and glancing down at Joe for a moment before looking back at Hoss.

"Where's Adam?" He asked, in a whisper.

Hoss sighed, this was the moment he was dreading. Ben finally realized Adam wasn't there.

"He had to go to town on business, Pa." Hoss started with that, hoping he could convince his father. After all, it wasn't a complete lie.

Ben frowned deeper. "And what business would keep him away for two days?"

"Ah, Pa, he didn't rightly tell me and I didn't ask."

Ben pointed an accusing finger at Hoss. "Hoss, I can always tell when you're not telling the whole story. Now out with it, why did Adam go to town?"

Hoss sighed. "He had somethin' to finish for Little Joe."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "And just what did he have to finish?" His face grew slightly angry and he pointed at Joe. "Does it have anything to do with the condition that Joseph is in now?"

"Well, Pa, Adam kinda thought that, and I'm inclined to agree with him. See, Pa, Joe here…" Hoss paused looking down at his hands. "He didn't think Andrew killed Sir Edward and was tryin' to figure out who did."

"He what? And was what?" Ben snapped, then turned looking at the ceiling and running a hand through his hair.

"We didn't want to tell you, Pa, not after what happened with…" Hoss faded looking down again.

Ben turned. "With Clint, his father, that's what you were poking at, right?"

Hoss nodded, keeping his head down.

"Of all the hair brained notions. Where did you ever get the idea that I wouldn't allow…Why did you even think…?" Ben shook his head. "I made a mistake, and that was long ago, but I never would have stopped Joe from looking into the matter, not if he truly believed that Andrew was innocent. I might have caution him, but never stopped him." Ben sighed. "Oh well, no use in arguing with the past. So, Adam has gone to town to finish the investigations, is that it?"

Hoss nodded and his face rose. "We just didn't want to bother you, Pa, and we didn't know that anything bad would ever come of any of it."

Ben nodded. "Never mind Hoss." A smile flickered across his face. "Never mind. But, if Adam isn't home sometime tomorrow, I want you to ride to town to find him, and pick up some more medicine from Dr. Martins when you go." He smiled. "I've already have one boy injured, I don't want to add another to the list, so make sure he's alright."

"Sure, Pa." Hoss smiled softly and Ben stuffed his hands into his pockets heading for the door.

"I'll be back later," Ben said, at the door and gently shut it.

Hoss sighed. "I'll just do that. I'll just make sure old Adam's takin' care of himself." Hoss smiled and Joe and removed the cloth from Joe's head.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The wind seeped up under him, and Adam gave a violet shiver. The movement sent a tremor of pain from his head, and stars exploded before his eyes. Groggily he groaned and wondered why it was so cold. It took forever for his mind to realize that he was soaking wet and that he was lying on the hard floor. He groaned again and tried to push himself up, squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his mouth closed.

"Hey, I think he's waking up," someone said close by, and Adam stopped his fruitless attempts and worked on coaxing his eyes open.

"Your right," someone agreed and he felt and hand on his wrist. "I thought for a moment there you had killed him."

"Him? It takes more than a crack on the head to kill a Cartwright; they're just too thick headed."

The room was silent for a moment after that, before the man holding his wrist gently slapped Adam's cheek.

"C'mon, we know you're awake."

Adam swallowed a groan, as the slap to his cheek sent waves of pain through his head, and slowly opened his eyes to slits. Sir Edward, was sitting next to him looking at him with a face of mixed worry, and Adam closed his eyes again.

"You're dead," he mumbled. "So leave me to my peace."

Edward chuckled, and Adam opened his eyes squinting at the man.

"You're not Sir Edward, are you?" Adam frowned as he tried to get his uncooperative eyes to focus on the man.

"You are right Mr. Cartwright, I am not he."

Adam nodded slowly, wincing at the pain and allowed his eyes to travel to the other man. It was dark in the room, but Adam could just make out the face he had seen in the brief flash of lightning that had lit up the room.

"If you are not Edward, then who are you? And why go through all the trouble of trying to look like him?" Adam asked his eyes falling back to the man crouched in front of him.

He smiled. "My name is one that very few in this town know." He rose his hand clasping behind his back. "In fact I doubt any really know what it is. For me that is a good thing, for you…" He smiled and shrugged. "Hamlet, Chris Hamlet, at your service." He gave a dramatic bow to Adam and turned to his accomplice, clapping him on the back. "And this man is my good partner Thorps. During the working hours of the day, you'll find us in Taylor's office, working the day away for that insufferable man."

Adam looked from one to the other astonished. "You're Taylor's secretary? You killed Sir Edward?"

"Me?" Chris placed a hand on his chest and scoffed. "Good heavens, no. Not in a million years would I ever stoop so low as to carry out such an ill-begotten plan as the one Campler did."

Adam smiled slightly. "So it was Campler."

"Yes, the poor man was afraid that he would lose everything and be labeled a beggar." Chris waved a hand in the air. "The stupid man couldn't contain his temper. Killed the old man in his parlor, beastly business what." A heavy British accent started to flow from the lips of Chris and Adam closed his eyes again. "Oh pray, don't fall asleep again. I had a terrible time getting you awake the first time."

The sound of a match being struck echoed about the empty room, and Adam opened his eyes to watch Chris and Thorp light a lantern.

"Why go through all the trouble to look like someone else?" Adam mumbled, after a moment's pause.

Chris reached into his coat, coming out with a cigarette case, and lighting one up. "Isn't it obvious?" He asked as he took a long drag on his cigarette. "I thought to you of all people it might be." He exhaled the smoke and watched it dance in the drafty air. "No, I guess not. Thorps and I, used to work for a theatrical group that traveled around, giving plays to the many." His eyes lit up, as memory's played before them. "Ah, those were the days." He smiled slightly, then sighed as memories came to an end. "We had to leave one time in quite a hurry after Thorps killed a man who was angry that Thorps was messing with his wife." He sighed again. "I supposed that is the long winded way to say, that I learned to do makeup quiet well from that experience, and decided that Thorps and I had better disguise ourselves before riding out to Edwards ranch."

He ended as though that had explained all, and Adam frowned. "And why?"

"Don't you think it would be odd to see myself and Thorps ride out to the ranch? Someone might wonder what we would want there, and they might start asking around, and then we'd have more people to worry about, instead of just you, and well, don't you see it was much simpler this way."

"But why make yourself look like Sir Edward? Wouldn't that stir up more questions if anyone saw you?"

Chris smiled. "Mr. Cartwright, who could the person tell? Anyone who heard them would believe them to be crazy. Dr. Martin identified the body himself, and no one is going to go against the doctor's word."

"Why go back there at all?" Adam muttered, his eyes becoming harder to keep open.

"The Saber of course. We had to return the Saber before someone, like you, got nosy and realized it was missing. We also had to collect Campler's handkerchief, that he dropped in his hast to get away." Chris sighed rolling his eyes. "That man is extremely incompetent, and a complete bore. Then there being the matter of the books, we just had to get Edward's books in order. Campler didn't fancy paying back the eight thousand, and if no one knew he had…"

The ringing in Adam's ears had started to grow, and a queasy feeling was spreading throughout his stomach, but he tried to push both feelings away and he pieced together the puzzled.

"Thorps," Adam finally smiled allowing his eyes to close, and causing the two men to stare at him. "Thorps saw Campler kill Edward, didn't he?"

"Yes," Chris sounded slightly pleased. "He did. And being the good man that he is, saw a profit in the whole thing, and took the saber that Campler had used, placed Sir Edward back in the corner where Andrew had stabbed him and came and told the whole thing to me before going to get Taylor."

"And you're blackmailing Campler."

"Blackmailing!" Chris stepped back as though offended. "Never. Mr. Campler and I have come to an understanding. He pays us and we see to it that no one finds out he did it."

Adam smiled and looked back at the ground. His head was killing him, and his vision was starting to blur. "And Old Man Ryan? Did he have anything to do with this?"

Chris stopped and stared at his cigarette for a moment before throwing it to the ground and crushing it. He smiled and Adam and shrugged. "Ryan was there the night Campler killed Edward. He wouldn't be bought so he had to be killed."

"Campler had quite and audience," Adam mumbled.

"Yes, he did." Chris rolled his eyes. "The man was a complete fool. Without me and Thorps, he never would have been able to pull the job off."

"Why did you make it look as though Taylor killed Ryan?" Adam muttered, this last piece of information, was the only thing his brain couldn't figure out."

"That was purely accidental, but it worked completely in our favor. I own a 45. Cult, although it's not well known as I never remove it from the desk, I happened to have a cigar that Taylor had given to me that morning and smoked it at Ryan's place. Rather foolish of me to leave it there, but in the end it worked out. Old Man Ryan wouldn't be bought, so I had to kill him." Chris smiled.

"What are you going to do with me?" Adam asked closing his eyes to shutout the headache it was causing."

"I intend to leave you here. You do know where you're, don't you?"

Adam opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. He hadn't been paying attention before but now that he took note, it was very apparent that he was no longer at Sir Edward's ranch. In fact wherever he was, it was rather run down. This thought struck him and he sighed.

"I'm half way to Campler's ranch. The house on the hill."

"Right you are," Chris said happily. "Nobody comes out this way, and after Thorps finishes with you, you won't be going anywhere. So…" He smiled. "This is where you shall die."

A bright flash of lightning lit up the room, and the sound of thundered echoed hollowly through the house. Every one froze and a sense of uneasiness settled over the room. Thorps looked to Chris who looked out that window then back again.

He seemed to shake the feeling off and looked back at Adam who was struggling to rise. "Save it, Mr. Cartwright, no sense in using up what little strengthen you have left."

"Why not just kill me. Why must you leave me alive," Adam grumbled.

"You shan't be alive for long, just long enough to hate us," Chris taunted and nodded to Thorps. "Finish him, but be quick about it."

Thorps nodded, gave his gun to Chris and started on Adam. They left a few minutes after, and the old house on the hill was left with the body of Adam Cartwright.

The lighting flashed, and the thunder cracked through the air as Hoss stood outside the barn―his slicker drenched and water pouring off the brim of his hat―saddling his horse. Adam hadn't returned the night before, and Ben was sending Hoss to town to see what Adam was doing, and to buy some herbs for Hop Sing, for Joe. The storm that started last night, hadn't let up in the least and Hoss was delaying his ride for as long as possible.

It wasn't that he didn't want to ride into town. No, he was more than willing to do the errand for Hop Sing, and to check up on Adam, for he was just as interested in learning what had happened to Andrew Fill, as his father was in learning about Adam. But lightning could be a rather dangerous thing for a man to go riding in, and so Hoss delayed his ride hoping it would stop. It did not, however, and after finishing his lunch he donned his slicker and headed out to the barn to saddle Chubs.

He was just finishing and was about to mount when the door to the ranch house opened, and his father stepped out. Grabbing the reigns Hoss ambled over to his father, and joined him at the door.

"Be careful riding Hoss, in all this rain, it's bound to be muddy, might even be washed out in places," Ben said, slowly and thoughtfully, a he reconsidered sending Hoss.

"Don't you worry none about me, Pa, me and Chubs here, we can handle it," Hoss smiled.

Nodding slowly Ben smiled. "You bring Adam home with you for dinner."

"Right." Hoss nodded, and gave Ben's shoulder a squeeze before mounting up and riding off in the pouring rain.

It was slippery and muddy, pools of water and small rivers rushing across the road and pushing the dirt elsewhere. Hoss shook his head at the amount of rain and cringed when he thought of how much work it was probably creating.

"_I gonna be fixing fences till the first snow fall,"_ Hoss gloomily thought as he trotted slowly along.

Virginia City loomed up in front and Hoss was never more grateful to see the sight in all his life. His horse sunk in the mud as it walked down the empty streets and for the stables. Hoss handed his horse off to an eager young boy then made his way over to the court house, where he had been informed everyone else was there.

He entered the building softly, removing his water drenched hat and offering a polite smile to a young woman wait out in the hall. Pulling off his slicker and setting it aside he slowly pulled open the door to the court room and slipped in.

Barney had the floor. He was cross examining a witness to little avail and Hoss rolled his eyes after listening for less than a minute. Even he could do a better job than Barney. His eyes scanned the crowed for Adam, and he frown when he couldn't find him.

"_Where is he?" _he thought baffled.

The sudden rapping of the gavel brought his attention back to the proceedings and he was astounded to find the judge staring straight at him.

"I call a recess for one hour," Judge Jackson said setting down his gavel.

The prosecuting attorney stood to protest, but Jackson sent a look his way that instantly silenced him.

"Mr. Cartwright," Jackson turned back to Hoss. "I would like to have a word with you."

Confused Hoss pushed through the crowed and followed the judge into his side office. He didn't say anything as the judge slowly sat in his chair, making a great show of arranging himself and obviously hesitating to approach the subject he wanted. Hoss shifted feet and toyed with his hat as he impatiently waited for Jackson to address him.

"Hoss," Jackson began informally startling Hoss slightly. He couldn't remember the last time the judge had addressed him by his front name. "Your brother Adam was in here yesterday, saying that he had a feeling Mr. Fill was innocent. I gave him twenty-four hours to find his evidence." The judge paused.

Hoss shifted his weight again trying to figure what the judge was getting at.

"Hoss your brother rode out of town yesterday headed for the Fill's ranch and hasn't been seen since." He tossed a hand slightly laying it palm down on his desk. "I really wouldn't think _much_ of it except for the fact that he was investigating this case and the last person to do so…Joe, I mean he did…" The judge trailed off glancing at the perplexed face of Hoss. "Adam didn't come home did he?" there was hope in the voice but Hoss shook his head no.

"Has anyone been out to the Fill's ranch?" Hoss asked slowly.

"No," Jackson sighed. "Roy's busy with the prisoner and sorting out the death of Old Man Ryan, and everyone else in this town is more interested in watching the court case."

Hoss nodded and plunked back on his hat. "Then I reckon I'll go have a look. Thanks Judge." He hurried for the door.

"I'll try to stall the case as long as I can, after this I have a feeling that your brothers just might be right." Jackson called after Hoss.

"Thanks Judge!" Hoss threw the comment over his shoulder and practically ran from the court room. He hurried to his horse, and clumped out of town in the blurring rain.

He had a terrible feeling that he was going to find his eldest brother dead, and nothing was going to quell that feeling until he found him and looked him over for himself.

Adam moaned and consciousness slowly returned bringing with it a whole new set of problems. His sub consciousness had screamed at him to wake up and to get moving or Andrew Fill would die and it would be his fault. So slowly he had worked his way out of the comforting abyss until consciousness had returned. But his brain hadn't considered the terrible pain he was in, or the fact that he couldn't see straight. He rolled over, but found it to be a great mistake as pain rolled up and down his body causing him to groan aloud.

His hand groped for his side, and he curled up slightly. Thorps had been a splendid shot, and Adam knew he would have been dead at this very moment, had it not been for the very bright streak of lightning and defining clap of thunder that came after. Thorps had been startled and thus had wavered his hand slightly throwing off his aim, but he didn't miss, much to Adam's discomfort.

The roof on the old house leaked, and a puddle had started to form in the center of the room. It never got very big, for is slowly seeped into the worm eaten wood, or through the cracks and too the earth below.

Adam groan, watching it, as his concussed mind wondered how long it would take until the water put a hole in the floor. He nearly passed out again, from the thought, but just before he drifted off, his head snapped up, and he rubbed his eyes being mindful of his side.

He had to get up. He needed to get out of here and back to…Bed, he wanted to go to bed. To sink into the nice warm dry covers and lay his aching head down on his soft pillow letting it swallow him up…He shook his head again, not bed, town. He needed to get to town to save Andrew's life.

The thunder rumbled, and the rain started to hit the roof harder. Adam sighed and counted to three before slowly sitting up. It hurt like the dickens, and he barely raised his chest off the ground before his vision grew black and he had to lay down.

"Just…one…more…time…" He stuttered catching his breath and slowly trying to pull himself up again.

He hit the floor with a thud and ground loader.

"C'mon…" he slurred and tried again.

Whether it was stubborn determination, or the fact that the floorboards were drastically slopped in his favor, was unknown, but Adam made it to a sitting up position, and clung to his sighed breathing rapidly and praying that the day would come to an end. Good gravy, sometimes he hated his life.

Pushing himself past the dangerous darkness clinging to the edges of his vision, he forced himself to his knees and then lowly to his feet. Frist his right then his left. There, not so bad…

With a cry of pain he collapsed back to his knees and gasped for air, fighting the pain in his head and the one in his sighed. Each breath caught in his throat and each new one was an effort.

"_Why do I even try?"_ he wearily thought, letting himself slide back to the floor. His head weighed a ton, suddenly too heavy to hold up, and his side screamed in agony giving him no rest as he slowly drifted off. The darkness was _way_ more comforting.

Ben stood watching the rain fall from Joe's room with mixed feelings about the weather. The rain was good, this was too much. If it didn't let up soon there was going to be enough flood damage to keep them busy until the first snow fall. He gloomily thought of all that work, until suddenly a groan from Joe brought him out of his daydreaming and to his son's side.

"Joe?" He asked softly and hopeful as Joe's eyelids parted and he blinked at the world for a moment.

That's all it was, a moment, the next they had slid shut again and he was back to his restless sleep. Ben sighed and flopped down in the chair wearily. Waiting was going to be the death of him, and it seemed as though every time one of his sons got hurt he was always left in a limbo wondering if they would live or…

He shook his head, what was he thinking? Joseph was fine, the doctor said he was going to be just fine. But sometimes it was so hard to just sit and wait, and one's mind did tend to question the doctor's diagnostics and wonder if maybe…

A horse whinnied outside and Ben's head snapped up happy for the distraction from his morbid thoughts.

"_It's probably the weather," _he thought and rose from his chair going down to see who had arrived, hoping it was Hoss and Adam.

What he did find, took his breath away, and he stood staring at it for several _long _seconds before his brain finally kicked into action.

"Hop…Sing!" He stuttered moving quickly back into the house and grabbing up his hat and slicker before halting to think.

"Yes, Mister Cartwright? You yell?" Hop Sing came running into the room, knowing by the tone of Ben's voice that now was not the time to chastise him for yelling in the house.

Ben turned frowning deeply. "Something has happened to Adam," he mumbled and tossed on his slicker cramming his hat on and marching out the door.

Gently he took the reins to the shivering horse and led it into the barn. Removing the saddle he began to wipe Sport down, wandering if he had judge too hastily. Perhaps the horse and just been spooked and ran off. But if that were the case, then where was Adam? If the horse had been spooked while he was in town―where Ben prayed his son was at―then why hadn't Adam come and got him, or how did the horse ever make it out of town without someone stopping it? No, Adam must have gone somewhere.

The saddle was soaked so any hopes of learning anything from that was dashed. There were no blood stains on the saddle blanket, and nothing about the horse gave Ben a reason to be concerned. But his gut told him that something was wrong. A fatherly instinct? Whatever it was, nine times out of ten it was right. Torn between riding to town to see about Adam, and staying home with Joe, Ben sighed.

He couldn't go, he had to stay back with Joe, but he couldn't stay not knowing…

"You don't know for sure if anything's wrong." Ben patted the horse, speaking out loud to it. "Probably all worked up, because of the storm," a smile dashed across his face and he headed inside to tell Hops Sing never mind.

Hop Sing complained about being disturbed, and Mister Cartwright getting all worked up about nothing, but still Ben noticed that Hop Sing looked concerned over the news about Sport.

Ben? He couldn't sit still. Chained to Joes room with worry, and wanting to ride to town to be sure that all his sons where alright, Ben fought himself for a decision. The worry won out, and Ben finally settled in a chair fidgeting with his hands.

Hands resting loosely by his sides, Hoss stood on the porch looking at the rain pour off the roof. He was flabbergasted that he had found nothing, and slightly worried. Tracking was impossible in this weather, he had already tried. The ground was just too soft, and the rain was just too hard. He wasn't exactly the best of trackers either.

But Adam was out here somewhere, Hoss was sure, and he had to find him. Something was pressing upon him that there was a great urgency but Hoss couldn't seem to get anywhere with it. He was frustrated that he had no idea where Adam was or where he could even start to look, and the feeling, eating away at his brain seemed only to make things harder.

Who had Joe thought was the killer? What was Adam looking into last? Hoss shook his head, he really wasn't cut out for this, he normally left all the hard thinking to Adam, and sometimes Joe, but now it all seemed to rest on him, as both his brothers were gone.

Stepping heavily off the porch Hoss mounted up and rode back for the ranch, although why he couldn't say.

The rain was soaking the back of his shirt, and Adam opened his eyes in surprise as he realized suddenly he was no longer in the old rickety house but lying face down in the mud. With a groan he rolled over, and choked at the rain that splattered onto his face and filling his mouth.

"_Golly, it's coming down," _he thought distractedly, as an arm came up to cover his mouth.

He didn't stay like that long, for the shivering was racking his whole body making it hard to rest. Besides, he had to make it to the road if he ever hoped to be found. Camper's house was to the south, the Ponderosa was to the north east, and Virginia City was to his west. Since he couldn't trust Campler, Adam didn't head that way, and since the Ponderosa was closer… Adam drug his weary battered body to his feet and drug himself in the direction he needed.

Step, limp, step limp, tumble, step, limp… and so on he went until he took a tumble that he couldn't get up from. His hands curled in the mud and he huffed out a long groan of pain.

Lifting his head just enough off the ground he glanced down the hill. There at the bottom was the road to Virginia City. He was close, so very _very_ close and yet he couldn't drag himself another step. Pain ripped at his side and he curled slightly with a groan.

"Oh God," he cried through gritted teeth. "So close," he muttered and pulled in what he thought was his last breath of air. "So close," he breathed as the air emptied from his lungs.

As his horse fell onto the path-that was so very familiar to him-the sense of urgency increased until Hoss was riding with his head up, looking all about.

Chubs shied at a large clap of thunder and Hoss brought him to a halt. Talking softly to his horse, trying to bring comfort to it and himself, his eyes drifted to look at the terrain about him and he sighed as the rain made everything hard to see, hard to track, and hard to ride.

He started Chubs off again, but for some reason his horse wouldn't budge. His ears would twitch and he would back up, shaking his head, and prancing about, but he would not move forward, and in a final effort of frustration, Hoss stepped down from the horse and grabbed the reins. Stull Chubs wouldn't move as Hoss pulled and pulled to get his horse to walk. Shaking his head as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth he walk up to the nervous horse and gently patted it.

"It's alright old boy. Darned if I ain't in a much better mood." Hoss sighed. "If only…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head. "C'mon. It'll be much better at home then out here in the rain."

He started them off again and the horse followed, but only to a point.

"What's gotten into you boy?" Hoss snapped, thoroughly irritated with his horse.

"_Hoss!" _

The sound, carried with the wind freezing Hoss right where he stood. Still fighting with his horse he turned his head to look over his should at the present hills. Nothing was there, and he turned back to his horse suddenly shaken with uneasiness.

"_Eric!" _

It was louder, or so Hoss thought, and he gripped the reins in his hand not wanting to turn as a queasy feeling pulled at his gut. The voice sounded like a woman's, only she sounded lost, lonely, and…He shook his head, and grumbled to himself about being a wimp and turned. His eyes zeroed in on something on the hill that didn't look quite right, and Hoss frowned squinting into the rain to see. He couldn't get a very good look at it, and took a hesitant step forward. Chubs whinnied shaking his head but Hoss was too enthralled with the object on the hill.

With a hushing voice to his horse Hoss started off for the object, and suddenly Chubs quieted. He started to sprint when he recognized it was a man and stumbled into a run when he noticed who it was.

"My…!" the rest was choked off in his throat as he dropped to his knees next to Adam.

Lifting his brother's head out of the mud, Hoss hugged it for a moment before picking Adam up and caring him to his horse. He wondered for a moment who had called him, for Adam as out cold and it certainly wouldn't have been him, but if not, then who…? Besides Hoss could have sworn it sounded like a…a woman.

Mounting up and riding for the ranch, the thought was very soon forgotten as he worried about getting his brother home, alive.

The Cartwright's couch had never had to hold a more muddy, blood, and wet specimen in all its time at the Cartwright ranch. But when Hoss barged in the door, and gently placed his brother on the very fine piece of furniture, it seemed to give a groan as if it were wondering how Hop Sing was ever going to get that mess out of the material.

Ben Cartwright stood at the landing on his stairs for some seconds caught up in complete horror as he looked at his eldest son. It lasted less than a blink of an eye, and the next he was at his son's side wiping off his face with a cloth and saying a hurried goodbye to Hoss as Hop Sing brought a bowl of water.

They cleaned him up from head to toe, then got him up stairs and comfortable, patching up what they could and getting everything read for the doctor. Adam didn't stir, not once, and Ben wasn't sure if he was grateful or more worried by this fact.

Thunder rolled outside and Ben sent a glance to the window as his finished the last of what he could. Adam was cold, pale and with almost no pulse, looking like a dead man. Ben's hand curled around his son's as a buildup of worry finally over whelmed him. He'd been without sleep for days, caring and worrying for Joe, and at the site of Adam, it was too much.

A tear rolled down his rough cheek, and disappeared from sight as Ben hastily pushed it away. His grip on Adam's hand tightened and he laid his head on it.

"God's speed." He mumbled a prayer as he willed Hoss to hurry.

The horse that came running down the streets of Virginia City came charging in at a neck braking speed, and didn't stop until it nearly collided with the hitching rail in front of Dr. Martin's. Hoss jumped from the saddle and ran into the place as a crowd gathered about to hear what had happened.

Most knew Hoss had gone in search of Adam, and since the trial was still on a recess, a great crowd had been waiting outside and had thus seen Hoss come tearing down the street. They were all interested in knowing what he wanted, and were shock by what they learned. And as the doctor and Hoss went riding back out of town, the people scattered to spread the news.

"I tell you, it's your fault!" Chris Hamlet snapped his fist coming down hard on the table.

Thorps stood to protest but Chris held up a hand before turning to the window watching the commotion below.

"This whole thing is a mess. It was a mess from the start and I should have washed my hands of the matter." Chris sighed. "Oh well, no sense in wishing the past away. Come." He turned back to Thorps. "We must go, now. The two Cartwrights are still alive and it's only a matter of time before the whole story comes out."

"There might be a chance that they die…" Thorps started hopefully only to let his voice trail off as Chris shook his head.

"No, it is too risky, and the chances of them dying are very small. If we do not wish to end up dead, we must go now."

Thorps nodded, and an hour later the two slowly rode out into the rain to some unknown destination, where the they hoped to start over, again.

Propped up by more pillows than a person could count Adam heaved a heavy sigh as he forced himself to stay awake just long enough to tell Hoss and Ben the information he had. Dr. Martin had long since finished patching him up, and was just about to put Adam into a sleep, when the Cartwright had requested a short conversation with his father first. Martin had agreed, against his better judgment to allow Adam a short minute before he was made to sleep.

Gently the door opened, and slowly, Ben and Hoss entered the room. His father had a small smile on his face as he slowly walked to the bed, noting that Adam looked whiter than the pillow cases.

"Adam, Martin said you needed a word with us," Ben said, softly.

"Yeah," Adam breathed weekly. "Campler killed Sir Edward, and Thorps and Chris Hamlet, Taylor's secretary, were accomplices." His face screwed up in pain, and he gripped his side taking in a sharp breath. "I need someone to ride to town and show Andrew's innocence. The evidence is with Chris, if he hasn't destroyed it yet. If he has, you might be able to find what you need with Campler. Knowing him, he probably kept accounts of everything he did." He sighed, gripping his side once more and smiling softly at Ben's worried face. "Campler killed Edward over a debt."

Ben smiled back slightly his hand once more sliding into Adam's. "I'll see to it personally," he mumbled softly, and watch, with mild satisfaction, as Adam nodded and slowly drifted off.

"Hoss, get Buck ready, I'm going to pay Campler a visit." Ben said as his eyes stayed glued to Adam's face. "Ask Marin to stay, and ride to town and tell Roy."

"Sure thing." Hoss darted from the room to comply with Ben's request.

Campler, had never expected a visit from Benjamin Cartwright, and so when his old friend came walking up the stairs to the porch, Campler was there to meet him at the door. He invited him in, with a great welcome, noting that Ben look a little worse for wear and secretly liking it. They went to his study for a drink, and after a few moments of pleasant chatter Ben suddenly downed his drink and set it on the table.

"Come now Campler," he said soberly. "The game is over. I'm tired and have nerves that I can't quite control at the moment. You give me the information I want, and I won't shoot you."

Totally shocked by the address just given Campler sat in utter silence for a moment. Something he rarely did.

"I…"

Ben face grew cold. "Come now Campler, are you going to deny the fact that you killed Sir Edward over a debt, and had Chris and Thorps take care of the evidence for you? For a price I assume."

Campler's face screwed up in a sneer. "Did they tell you that?"

"No."

Campler smiled. "It's been nice seeing you, Ben, but unless you have some kind of evidence I'm afraid you can't prove a thing." He turned back to this drink, taking a confident swallow that he choked on as Ben was suddenly on top of him pressing the air from his lungs.

"I don't need any evidence," Ben said softly. "I have you."

Campler's eyes bulged as the air was forced out of his abdomen. "Ben!" he choked out. "You… you won't…"

"Oh?" Ben pressed harder.

Campler choked. "Alight, alright!" he cried as the edges of his vision started to grow black. He tried to struggle but everything had suddenly grown very heavy.

"Alright, what?" Ben demanded.

"I confess!" Campler snapped, "I killed Edward!"

The pressing didn't loosen, however, and Campler suddenly found himself completely starting to black out, as a ringing in his ears began. He thought his was his last, when suddenly Ben was off and Campler sucked in a huge painful gulp of air. His sight slowly returned, and the ringing in his ears lessoned until he heard someone roughly telling Ben to calm down.

"Alright!" Ben finally snapped. "I'm fine." There was a long pause and Campler tried to lift his heavy eyes lids. "Did you hear?"

"Yes, Pa, we heard. I don't think Mr. Campler's going anywhere for a long time."

With a groan, Campler opened his eyes, and wished he hadn't. Roy Coffee was staring into his face and smiling unpleasantly.

"Mr. Campler, you're under arrest."

Roy jerked the man to his feet and drug him outside, as his wife stood at the door watching the scene in a mystified daze.

Hoss walked Ben outside, and they rode after Roy, ignoring the glares and looks that followed them out.

15


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Adam Cartwright sat on the porch as he watched Hoss and Joe tease Andrew Fill about a horse the young man had just bought. From what Adam could tell, the horse was a splendid example of its species and Andrew had made a good bargain, but his brothers had to tease him all the same.

Julia Fill had come to claim her inheritance which she had happily singed over to Andrew after staying less than a week. Country life was not for her, and since her husband worked as an engineer in the construction of the rail road, the two had more than enough money to keep them happy for life. The ranch was in poor affairs anyway, and Julia didn't want to waste her time on getting them straight. She handed the whole mess over to her brother, with her blessings and skedaddled it back to San Francisco.

Campler had been found guilty on all accounts and was sentenced to hang. Not that the thought was all that satisfying. It really was sad that Campler had turned into such a monster just to own the biggest ranch. It had turned him crazy and caused him to do things he never would have done. Mrs. Campler had packed up and left after paying Andrew what was due, and Adam felt sorry for her.

The poor woman knew nothing of what her husband had done. She really didn't know what he had turned into, and was still very much in love with her husband. She accepted all the facts that were presented to her, and ran the business at hand with amazing strength, never faltering once. She sold everything and paid Andrew the day after her husband's funeral.

Andrew had been very gentlemanly to her, say he didn't really care for the money and she need not trouble herself about it. But Mrs. Campler had pointed out that she had nothing to keep her here. She had family in New York who wanted her to come and stay with them, and that's where she was headed. She had gotten a large some for the ranch and house, Adam saw to it that it was way more than it was worth, and was set up very nicely for life. Adam wished her well, hoping with all his heart that she really could start again.

Chris Hamlet, and Thorps had successfully escaped it all, and Adam hoped to never see the two again. Not that he had much to worry about. He figured if they were ever foolish enough to come back half the town would be breathing down their necks in seconds. _Everyone_ was angry over the death of Old Man Ryan.

Lazily Joe was leaning against the fence out by the barn as he pitched in his two cense about the horse, He wasn't supposed to be up and about, but Adam had let him, provided that he wandered no further than the barn. Ben was in town with Hop Sing, and Hoss had been left to watch his two brothers. He was to have made sure that they stayed within the house, but Joe had talked Hoss into letting them sit on the porch, and after Andrew had arrived all hopes of keeping Joe lock up was gone.

Adam, on the other hand was happy to sit on the porch. He'd gone out to greet Andrew when he had first rode up, but he had found the walk surprisingly exhausting, and not wanting anyone else to notice, he had tactfully retreated to the porch. The hot July weather had moved to sweltering August that was gracefully giving away to a cool September. A breeze danced threw the yard and Adam gratefully took in a gulp of air. It was nice to be out of the house, and it was nice to have the sense of calm once more settled over everything. A laugh carried over the wind and Adam shook his head at his brothers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Yes, it was good to have everything back to normal. Well almost normal.

2


End file.
